Runaway Jedi
by CamelotKnight
Summary: The one story that no one bothered to write...Palpatine's daughter. 'The Force is strong in this one.' Joins the Rebellion and befriends Leia. Featuring all the characters that should have been featured in more stories...read and review!
1. Introduction

"We have to operate quickly if we are to save the babies."

"Babies?" Organa said with some puzzlement, and Ladine sighed, holding her own baby close to her chest. _Padme just had to have twins, didn't she?_

Ladine wished she could be at Padme's side, but Lu-Jean was being cranky. Obi-Wan finally went in to her. the three of them watched, nervous and tense, as the medical droid worked. The first baby was out…the second one…

Ladine let out a gasp as the droid flatly announced that Padme was dead. She staggered back, her hand to her mouth, and Bail laid an arm around her.

"Dead?" she whispered. Her baby wailed.

After Luke and Leia's homes had been decided upon, Ladine left with Bail –apparently Master Yoda had some Jedi stuff to discuss with Obi-Wan. Her thoughts strayed to the twins, and for a moment she wondered if separating them was the best thing to do. then again, Bail would be a good father to Leia, and from what she'd heard, the Larses were pretty okay too. And with Obi-Wan acting as guardian-in-hiding, there shouldn't be any problems…

But a Sith Lord was ruling the galaxy. Problems were sure to abound. She looked at her now sleeping baby. If Palpatine knew she had a child…

"Are you all right?" Bail asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She gave him a weak smile. "Rather hard to process, this is," she said, imitating Yoda's manner of speech in an effort to cheer herself–and Bail–up.

Organa didn't need cheering. The prospect of having a baby daughter was more than enough for him. He smiled politely, but the concern in his eyes stayed. "What will you be doing? You can't go back to Kuat as a senator anymore. Palpatine will be looking for you–"

"I'll settle down somewhere remote and lonely. Not Tatooine, obviously," everybody knew her distaste for sand, "but somewhere Palpatine won't think of looking. Not very soon, at least."

"What about a job, a source of income?"

"That's easy enough. Singing. If I hadn't been such an impeccable diplomat, I would've gone to some company and offered my services as a singer. I've got a couple of friends who can help me out. Don't worry, they're loyal," she said, answering Bail's unvoiced question.

The senator still looked skeptical. "Loyal? I wouldn't be too trusting anymore, even of old friends. You're Palpatine's wife–he's sure to scour the galaxy for you. And if he gets even a rumour of his child–"

"The galaxy is a big place, thank the Force. I'll manage."

"I'd much prefer it if you came to Alderaan with me. We'd make sure you were safe and unharmed. You and your baby."

She laughed, even as her heart jumped at the loyalty in Bail's voice. "I couldn't possibly. You know that. Palpatine knows you're not exactly a good and faithful senator, and he'll have his eye on you. You'll have you hands full keeping inquisitive and prying stormtroopers and stuff off your back. I'd just be an added cause for suspicion. "

Bail was sensible enough to not blatantly deny that fact. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"But I am _not._ I won't allow you to. I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself safe, and I have a few contacts, albeit rather disreputable, who will, I'm sure, offer their help."

"Ladine, I–"

"No, listen, Senator." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you mean well, and I am touched by it. I truly am. But you can't take such a huge risk for me. The fate of the whole galaxy is at stake, and you are one of the few people who can restore peace and order to the galaxy. Your loyalty and friendship to a friend mustn't be a stumbling block."

"This isn't just about you." Bail laid a gentle hand on Lu-Jean's cheek, absently caressing it. "You have a baby to look after and protect. What if Palpatine's stormtroopers find you and the baby?"

Ladine looked down at her daughter. As if on cue, Lu-Jean gave a little smile in her sleep. Ladine could well imagine the fate of the child if Palpatine managed to get his hands on her. "They won't. I'll see to that."

Bail must've heard the quiet determination in her voice, the firmness and the confidence. He dipped his head. "At least promise me you will turn to me for help, if you need any."

"Bail–"

"No, Ladine. No buts, no arguments. Just say yes, I will. This I'm going to insist on."

She sighed in defeat, though again the familiar feeling of relief arose within her. "I will. I promise."

Organa nodded, satisfied. "Thank you. Please don't hesitate to ask for aid. My planet will always be open to you, no matter what."

Just then the baby moved, opened her eyes, and howled loud enough to wake the dead. Ladine tried to lull her back to sleep, but to no avail. "Sorry, I think this baby needs food and rest."

Bail grinned. "Parenthood."

"Oh, you've no idea."

"Soon, I will."

She chuckled. "Good luck. If Lu-Jean is a handful, Leia will most certainly be more than a mouthful. She is Padme's and Anakin's daughter, after all."

"Looking forward to it, I am."

"Foolish naivete."

After about an hour of nursing, Lu-Jean fell asleep again. Ladine kept her in her little crib, next to Leia and Luke. She watched the twins as they slept, smiled at Luke when he opened his eyes and stared at her.

"Worried about him? So am I."

Ladine turned, activating the cool Senator smile she'd perfected over the years–it worked even on nervy Jedi Masters. "I'm sure someone with your skills and expertise will be able to keep him safe, even in a sand-infested area."

Obi-Wan didn't even crack a grin. "You know what I mean."

She lost her fake demeanor. "Yes. Well, we have to hope that the twins will be fine, and that one day Palpatine will be dethroned." _And Anakin Skywalker be turned or destroyed._

The Jedi seemed to hear the unspoken words, but he didn't comment on them. "Must be hard for you. First your husband, and now Padmé. I'm sorry."

She smiled wearily at the Master's attempt at condolences. "I deserved it. I knew him better than anyone else. I of all people should've known who he was–a Sith Lord, of all people. I should've guessed…" her voice trailed off. Talking of Palpatine that way hurt too much.

 _Not Palpatine,_ she reminded herself sternly. _Darth Sidious, Emperor of the galaxy…_

 _And my husband, my daughter's father._

"The Jedi, of all people, should have known," he said. "You mustn't blame yourself, Senator."

"Former Senator, Master Kenobi."

He finally gave way to a half-grin. "I apologize. I assume Senator Organa offered to take you to Alderaan, and that you refused?"

"Ah, the all-knowing Jedi."

He ignored her jab. "Where will you go?"

Ladine repeated what she'd told bail, and was comforted when his response was slightly more optimistic. "I wish I could promise to come to your aid if you need me, but I'm–"

"Definitely not going to," she said firmly. "Obi-Wan, you're going undercover now. You can't rush off to anybody's aid except Luke's, unless there's some huge, big emergency, and I certainly don't rank that high in importance. Please don't do anything rash and stupid out of a sense of loyalty, Kenobi. I'd hate to unwittingly bring about your destruction."

"You never did like to mince words, did you? Don't worry, I won't. One of the things a Jedi Master must possess is the ability to analyze a situation carefully. After the Clone Wars, I certainly think I have that bit under control."

"Oh, definitely."

A low moan caught their attention, and they turned to see baby Luke squirming restlessly. "Here's a chance to learn how to calm a baby, Jedi," she remarked, lifting Luke and handing him to Obi-Wan, giving him pointers on how to hold him. He caught on quick, and she nearly giggled at the sight–a Jedi Master perching a baby boy precariously in the crook of his arm.

"They never taught this in Jedi school," he said rather breathlessly.

"Evidently," she replied drily.

He shifted his attention from the baby to her. "Tell me, can you think of any aliases for me?"

She thought for a bit. "Something simple, something easy to tuck in a corner of your mind and forget about…How about Ben?"

He mulled it over. "Ben. Ben Kenobi. Sounds good to me."

She laughed, then grew serious. "May the Force be with you, Ben."

"You too…erm, I don't think I know your name?"

"How about Zalle?"

"Doesn't really suit."

"Finnette?"

"Sounds like a name for a mynock."

"Oh, for–Juliet, then."

"Much better."

"Alwinettar."

"That, on the other hand…"

"Juliet. Case closed."

His blue eyes twinkled for the first time in ages, and she felt an odd sense of déjà vu creeping over her. _Please don't die, Obi-Wan, please…_

"May the Force be with you, Juliet."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I think I'll need it."


	2. The Force Is Unleashed

I don't own any of the characters, except the OCs.

Chapter 2

In the relative safety of her room, Lu-Jean listened carefully at the door. She extended her Force senses, rather awkwardly but with more finesse than she'd been capable of earlier, to better hear the conversation between her mother and the stormtroopers.

"…one Force-user here," the lead trooper said, his voice devoid of emotion, like all the others they'd encountered over the months. The previous ones were easily fooled. This time, though, it was different. She could feel the resolve of the troopers. They wouldn't be easily misled. "Your source is mistaken," her mother replied calmly, but with an edge to it. That was all right. Everyone was nervous when they spoke to stormtroopers, guilty or otherwise–and it was usually the guilty ones who were more composed. "The Emperor killed all the Force-users in this place, even the children and babies he suspected of being Force-sensitive."

"We have been ordered to search the house."

"I assure you, your time would be better spent–"

There was a scuffling sound, followed by a little moan, and Lu-Jean tightened her hold on the door handle. Mom had told her to stay in her room, but if the stormtroopers were hurting her…

The brisk clomp-clomp-clomp of stormtrooper boots on the floor grew more distinct, and Lu-Jean knew they'd forcefully entered the house. Nothing unusual there; stormtroopers were notorious for doing just that. Sometimes she wondered if stormtroopers _liked_ to force their way into places where they weren't wanted.

She could hear soft noises, as the place was searched for goodness knew what. Did they expect to find a Force-user hidden under the table? Or among the folds of the curtain, perhaps?

A crash. Possibly one of Mom's decorative wares meeting its untimely demise at the hands of a crabby trooper. A sharp female voice–"What are you doing!" Another moan, this one louder than the first and more like a cry, then a soft thud as someone light fell to the floor.

Lu-Jean could feel her mother's fear spike. She yanked the door open and strode out purposefully. She could feel the Force swirling around her, and the anger…pure, raw, fierce anger at the men who'd dared to lift a finger against her helpless mother…

Mom had always told her to keep her anger in check, that it would be fatal if she let it loose. Always, she'd tried to follow her instructions to the letter. This time, though, she couldn't. This was a lot more personal.

She stopped in the middle of the room, taking in the scene at a glance. Her mother was slowly lifting herself to her feet, unaided by the stormtroopers surrounding her. She halted when her eyes fell on Lu-Jean, and paled. Lu-Jean sent out calming thoughts, sensing more than seeing her fear. She wished she could tell her mother she wasn't afraid of the troopers, but she knew her mother wasn't afraid she'd get hurt–she was afraid they'd find out she was Force-sensitive.

She wished she'd thought the same way, but the truth was she was tired of cowering under the troopers' gazes, of scuttling away frightened and basically acting like an underdog.

The troopers regarded her. possibly they didn't regard her as much of a threat, considering her size and obvious age. A ten-year-old didn't trigger any sort of She glared at them furiously, not daunted by the blasters aimed at her. "Did you just push my mother?" she asked quietly.

"Lu-Jean, go to your room–"

"Searching a house is one thing, hurting its occupants is something else altogether."

"Lu-Jean, please go–"

"Especially," she said, holding the lead stormtrooper's gaze, "if you suspect a Force-user of inhabiting said house."

"Jean!"

She finally glanced at her mother, at the naked fear in her eyes and expression.

"Are you a Force-user?" the trooper asked.

"For your own good, leave."

"You will come with us."

"I don't think so."

She opened herself to the Force the way her mother had taught her to. Ladine wasn't the best of advisers on the matter, but she knew a lot more than most folks…and she was no ordinary student, either. Her mother's surprise at the way she learnt to use the Force was more than obvious. Granted, she wasn't Master level, hardly even Knight level, but at least she could use telekinesis with relative ease–and that was more than enough to take care of a bunch of pesky blaster-toting troopers.

A trooper to her right lifted up his blaster. She flicked a finger at him and it flew out of his grasp. In spite of her effort, though, it landed on the floor instead of in her hand. Instead of going after it, she focused on the more immediate danger. She grabbed the lead trooper's blaster and wrenched it out of his hand, using the Force to aid her. After ducking to avoid a blaster bolt, she used the Force to fling them to a side of the room.

The motion was nowhere as fluent as she'd hoped, and left her a little breathless. she stared at them, slowly getting to their feet, then gripped her blaster and shot an overzealous trooper aiming at her in the chest. He bowled over, a smoking hole in his white armour. Three more troopers went down in the same way, and by then the survivors had arisen and were carefully firing at her. For a half-second, she wished she could use the Force to switch their blasters from _Kill_ to _Stun_ , but she knew she couldn't.

There was a large settee in the room. Her eyes rested on it for the split second before the troopers began to fire, wondering if she could move it. It was big and bulky, and…

 _Size matters not,_ she remembered her mother telling her.

She inhaled, then flung out her hand toward it, drawing the Force to her. A blaster bolt sailed harmlessly past her, then two more, narrowly missing her, and then the huge settee was rising clumsily, floating across the room and gaining momentum, before crashing into the opposite wall and burying the troopers under its considerable weight.

Lu-Jean gasped for breath, worn-out but thrilled by her success. A white armour-plated leg, visible underneath the settee, wriggled, making a scraping noise on the floor. She shot at it; the leg stopped moving. She grinned, exultant at having taught the stormtroopers a lesson. For so long she'd wanted to make them pay for their arrogance, confidently marching into houses and taking prisoners or leaving dead bodies scattered. Now, finally, they knew what it felt like.

Then her eyes met her mother's. Ladine was standing motionless, her hands covering her mouth, her face an expression of horror as she stared at the bodies under the settee. She averted her eyes, as if unable to meet the sight, and rested on hers. Lu-Jean saw the fear there, and wondered what she was afraid of–and then realized that her mother was afraid of _her,_ of her power and the way she'd used it to deftly destroy her enemies.

"Mom?" she asked softly.

"You're–so good," her mother managed to say. "And so in danger, too," she added after a second, running over to Lu-Jean and flinging her arms around her.

Lu-Jean hugged her mother, feeling the woman's body shake and wondering what she'd done, to make her mother feel so scared. Her mother hugged her tightly, and Lu-Jean could feel the fear in her. It scared her more than anything. Ladine was always so in control, so cool and composed…but now, she seemed just like all the other anxious, agitated mothers she'd met.

"Mom?" she asked again. "Is something wrong?"

Her mother let out a deep sigh. She knelt down and took Lu-Jean's arms in hers. "Jean dear, I want you to listen to me very carefully," she said, and the gravity in her tone made Lu-Jean unconsciously steel herself to hear something really bad. "Until now, we've always managed to keep you hidden and safe from stormtroopers. But now we can't hide anymore. More troopers are going to be looking for us, both of us, and they won't rest till they find us. We're going to have to go far away from this place if we are to survive."

Lu-Jean felt a cold feeling in her gut as she listened to her mother's words, knowing she was deadly serious. For a second, she wondered whether fighting the troopers had been the wrong thing to do, but she firmly clamped down on that thought. What was done, was done. No use mulling over it now. "What do we do?"

Ladine gave a sad, tired smile. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. You'll be safe, I promise."

"Safer than I was here?" she asked drily, remembering how her mother had promised the exact same thing when they moved to Naboo.

At that, her mother's eyes grew even sadder than before, and Lu-Jean instantly regretted saying that. "Do you trust me, Jean?" she asked finally.

Lu-Jean bit her lip. "Yes, mom."

"Good." Ladine drew her close and hugged her, tighter than usual. then she stood up. "Go and pack you stuff."

"Where am I going?"

Her mother hesitated. "Somewhere safe."

Lu-Jean felt like snapping at her that that wasn't a proper reply, but she held herself back in time, choosing to step past her and walk to her room. At the door, she stopped. "Why are they all after me?"

Silence greeted her reply, and she swung around to see her mother regarding her with sorrowful eyes. "Mom?"

Ladine sighed, and began to pick up the fragments of the shattered vase. Lu-Jean knew her well enough to understand that she was trying to avoid eye contact. She held her ground, letting her mother know that this was one question she wanted an answer to.

"It's because you're a Force-user."

She snorted. "There are plenty of Force-users out there, and I'm willing to bet the Emperor hasn't been as meticulous in trying to track them down, as he has been in trying to track us down. There have been ten searches in the past two months! What's he after? Is there something special about you? Or about me, perhaps?"

Mom placed the last of the fragments on the table and turned to face her. "You don't want to know, Lu-Jean."

"So there is something." Lu-Jean stared at her mother's grim face, feeling an eerie sense of something close to calm, but not quite. "What?"

"You don't _need_ to know, Jean. It's not important, and it will only complicate matters."

"Not imp o–!" she burst, then halted. Her mother waited calmly. "Everybody is after me," she said, forcing herself to be calm. "I'd like to know the reason why, please."

"Fine," her mother said wearily, after a long pause. "I would have liked to wait till you were older, but if you insist…You're Palpatine's daughter."

For a moment, Lu-Jean simply gawked.

Then she gave a choked laugh that sounded odd, even to her own ears. "Really. Good joke, that. You nearly had me fooled. Come on, Mom, the real reason."

Her mother returned her gaze, quiet as stone.

Lu-Jean's stupid grin faded. "Oh dear. You're serious."

Ladine shut her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, they were misty. "I'm sorry, Jean."

Jean swallowed hard, feeling herself tremble slightly. "That means…you're his wife." Ladine nodded silently. "He's my…he's my _father_." She had to struggle to get the word out, and once she did, she nearly felt like throwing up.

 _Palpatine's my father, my own flesh and blood. Could this day get any worse?_

"Go and pack, Jean," her mother said, breaking the silence. "We can't stay here for long."

Lu-Jean stood rooted to the spot for a while before she decoded what her mother said. She closed the door behind her and collapsed on her bed, staring at the floor and working her mouth in silence, trying to make sense of what her mother had just told her.

 _We can't stay here very long._

She forced herself to stop thinking, to save it for the long trip she knew was going to come. Getting to her feet, she pulled out her case from beneath her bed and dropped it on the bed, and began to pack without consciously knowing what she was doing.

FYI, it doesn't hurt to review. And it would brighten up my otherwise dull and dreary school life no end. To put it more simply, pleeeeeeease review!


	3. On Alderaan

"Senator?"

"Yes?" Bail didn't look up from his work.

"There's a young girl who wants to see you, sir. She won't give her name; she says she's been sent by her mother."

Now Bail did look up, frowning at the servant in the doorway. "She won't give her name?"

"No, sir."

Bail knew of quite a few people who would be unwilling to disclose their name to a servant–and almost everybody else, for that matter–but nowhere in the list could he remember a little girl. He got up with a nod. "Very well. Lead the way; we'll see what this little girl wants."

"She's in here." The servant waved at the door.

Bail nodded. "Thank you. You may leave." The man pivoted smartly and strode off.

Bail looked at his retreating figure for a while, then opened the door and stepped in, closing it shut behind him. The room, built for the sole purpose of entertaining guests, was pleasantly, if a bit luxuriously furnished. Chairs lined one side of the wall; the guest, ignoring these, had elected to stand. He stared at her, at first with some confusion. The face seemed very familiar, but he couldn't quiet place it. the girl stared right back, offering no explanation as to who she was.

Then understanding dawned on him, and he couldn't help smiling. "Lu-Jean. What a pleasant surprise!"

The girl frowned suspiciously at him. "You know me?"

"I knew your mother, yes. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby." Lu-Jean winced slightly at the mention of her mother, and Bail grew concerned. "Your mother is all right, isn't she? And why isn't she here with you?"

She pushed a tuft of hair away from her face and tucked it behind an ear. This gave Bail a closer look at her black eyes, right now exuding hostility. "Look, Senator Organa–that's who you are, isn't it?" Bail nodded dumbly. "Well, not to seem rude, but I don't know who you are, and I see no reason why I should answer your questions. For all I know you could be asking me that just so you could find and hurt her."

"Sorry? Why did you come to Alderaan, to my place, if you didn't trust me?"

She held his gaze for a second, then blinked and looked away, sinking into a chair and crossing her arms. "She asked me to."

"Ah." Bail couldn't think of anything else to say, and so decided to wait for her to resume. And she did, after a long pause and with obvious reluctance. "Look, my mother told me before she left that I could trust anyone who told me the password."

Bail waited for her to say more, but she didn't. she simply sat there, staring at him. finally he asked, "Password?" She nodded, and he sighed as he took a seat. "I don't think I know of any passwords. We last met a long while ago, about ten years now I think, and though I did force her to promise that she'd come to me if she was in danger, she never mentioned anything about passcodes or anything of the sort."

"You are Senator Organa, aren't you?" she asked again, and he nodded. "Yes, I'm Bail Organa."

She regarded him in silence, and Bail suddenly realized what she was doing–reaching out with the Force to see if he was saying the truth, or something like that. he'd heard Obi-Wan mention it before. And since Lu-Jean was the daughter of a powerful Force-sensitive, it made sense that she'd have Force sensitivity. So he sat in silence, waiting for her to speak.

"I'll give you a hint," she said at last. "The password is two sentences that only someone she trusted explicitly would know."

"Ah," he said again, biting his lower lip. _Only someone she trusted…_ "You're Palpatine's daughter."

A second later, he wondered if it had been a stupid thing to say–if his room had been bugged…

"Well, those weren't the exact same words she used, but basically, yes."

"What words did she use?"

"Palpatine's your father. And I do hope your room isn't bugged."

"I hope so too. Don't worry," he said hurriedly on seeing the worry in her face, "I'm pretty sure it's not. I have it checked every day, and hardly anyone comes here anyway."

She didn't look very convinced. "And the second sentence?"

"Well, I would say, 'you're a Force-sensitive', but–"

"Obvious, senator."

"Exactly." Bail found himself in a fix. He knew plenty of important things that Ladine knew as well–Palpatine was a Sith Lord, Darth Vader was Anakin, a Jedi Master and Grand Master were still alive, Anakin and Padmé had twins–but none of them seemed like the sort of thing Ladine would reveal to her daughter.

 _Ladine! Of course!_ "Your mother's real name is Ladine."

She half-sagged in her chair, and Bail felt a wave of pity wash over him at the relief in her face. "So. Have I passed the test, or not?"

"Not with flying colours, no. but you've earned my trust–partially."

"I see." Actually, Bail didn't see at all–Lu-Jean was a little girl, not some grownup with big secrets to hide; neither could she have powerful enemies. What was she being so cautious about? "And to earn your full trust, what must I do?"

"Resign from the Senate," she said simply.

He looked with some surprise at her serious face. "You can't be serious."

"I hardly ever kid, _Senator_. In my experience, politicians and senators and almost everyone who has power is megalomaniacal, cruel and crazy. Witness Palpatine."

"I agree," he said, and Lu-Jean looked suspiciously at him. "Really, I do. But I can think of far worse people to take my place should I resign. Besides, by holding a powerful position in the Senate I can help those who need help. Being powerful does have its advantages."

"Yes," she said with some distaste. "You get to stay in shiny buildings like these." She looked pointedly at the furnishings of the room–a plush carpet, framed paintings and the like.

"I'm sorry you have such a poor opinion of senators. I hope to change your opinion of one, at least."

He expected her to reply with something cutting, but she didn't. She simply sat there, staring at the carpet, her face blank. "I'm afraid we've strayed from the topic. What happened to your mother?" he asked finally.

She stirred as if waking from sleep. "I don't know. She simply put me on the first transport ship leaving for Alderaan, and kissed me and told me we couldn't stay together any longer. Then the ship took off."

The words were spoken with apparent indifference, but Bail could sense the turmoil beneath. "She stayed behind?" She nodded. "On Naboo?" Another nod. "That makes sense."

She stopped her survey of the carpet to face him with puzzlement, not to mention anger. "No it doesn't! Why would she send me here and stay behind?"

"Because she wanted to give me as little trouble as possible. A pity, really," he said with true regret. "I would have opened my planet to her with no qualms whatsoever."

"Really?"

"Yes. You do know, don't you, that Ladine was a senator?"

"I remember her mentioning it in passing," she said drily.

"We were close friends for a long while, before she left the Senate and retired to live a quiet life in Naboo." Lu-Jean looked up for a brief instant before dropping her eyes again; Bail suspected he'd said something else that corroborated with what Ladine had told her. "What I don't understand is why? Ladine would never have even dreamt of sending you here, alone, unless something had happened."

"Something did happen," she said heavily. "Stormtroopers came to our house looking for a Force-sensitive. They hurt my mother, so I sort of used the Force to defeat them."

"Sort of?"

She exhaled. "I threw a settee at them."

Bail wondered for a moment if she was being sarcastic. From what he knew of the Jedi, the younger trainees could barely lift a stone. Teleporting a whole settee would have been possible only at Padawan age, and that after loads of practice. Still, the grim set to Lu-Jean's mouth and her somber eyes didn't make him doubt for a second that Lu-Jean was telling the truth.

Of course, it made sense now. Ladine would've known that sort of attack would instantly make stormtroopers flock to their home, and cause trouble for the Queen as well–especially if they told their bosses that the attacker was a 9 year old girl. If–or, rather, when–Palpatine found out, he'd have a fleet of troopers sent to Naboo. The logical thing would have been to leave. He cast another glance at Lu-Jean, sitting calmly next to him and observing him closely. The jet black eyes, so similar to Ladine's, made him feel rather unnerved. Ladine had the exact same way of staring at someone quietly, and she could do it for hours on end, if necessary. Clearly Lu-Jean had inherited the trait.

And a few other traits besides, from her father's side as well, he reminded himself. With Force-sensitivity, it would be hard to stay alive for very long without being found out. And with stormtroopers hounding nearly every planet, hiding was next to impossible–unless it was on a deserted world like Dagoba or an out-of-the-way place like Tatooine. "So, what are you going to do now?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have any money–at least, not any worth speaking of–so I can't pay for any accommodation or food; in fact, I can pay for practically nothing–"

"You needn't worry about that," he said. "I'll take care of everything. As the daughter of a senator and close friend, you deserve the best that Alderaan has to offer."

"Thanks, but I'm not really fond of getting free service," she said, suddenly tart. "I prefer standing on my own two feet. And I certainly don't trust strangers who offer to help me out. I've had my fill of them."

"Ah, one of Ladine's 'old friends' let you down, I see."

"Something like that."

"Well, although I'm not sure I'm older than Ladine's old friends–"

She winced. "I wish you'd stop calling her that."

"Calling her what? Ladine?"

Lu-Jean nodded. "She hated that name. It was a reminder of her time in the Senate, of the time she spent on Coruscant, and of pretty much everything that she wanted to forget. She's Juliet now."

"And changing a name made her feel better about whatever she's feeling gloomy about?" Lu-Jean didn't reply. "Okay, so you won't accept any help from me. What do you plan on doing, then?"

"I just told you. I don't know." Lu-Jean glared at him, then sighed as she stood up. "I'm feeling too tired to think. And I need to get the smell of that stinking transport ship off my head. I hope you won't mind if I take a stroll in your splendid gardens?" she asked with a tinge of scorn.

Bail shook his head. "Not at all. Stroll away, m'lady."

He watched as she glided across the floor–there was no other word for her near-silent, smooth way of walking–and disappeared from sight. With a little sigh, he stood up. It was going to be difficult to protect a girl who spurned any sort of help.

And even if she did accept the safety he could offer, it would be hard to hide her Force-sensitivity. Either way, he could sense Lu-Jean was going to be a bit of a problem.


	4. Meeting Another

Chapter 4 Meeting Another

The gardens were large, painstakingly maintained, and near-empty, other than the few gardeners at work and the servants and droids scurrying about their work. Lu-Jean was grateful for the silence. She hated noise, especially when she was thinking. The noisier a place was, the more she felt like releasing a torrent of energy with the Force. She wondered if the Jedi had the same problem–but probably not. Her mother had told her about the Jedi's calming techniques, though she didn't know much about how they were done.

The memory of her mother made her more irritated than ever. She kicked out at a pail lying in her way, knocking it over and sending the contents spilling. She jumped back hurriedly to stop the viscous liquid–whatever it was–from splashing over her boots. Stepping smartly over the mess she'd created, she walked on, crossing her arms.

After only about a few steps, she became gradually aware of the fact that someone was watching her, very carefully. For a moment, she considered ignoring it–besides, she'd often been proved wrong in the past even when she was absolutely certain someone was shadowing her–but after taking a few more paces, she stopped suddenly. Kneeling down, she untied her bootlaces and tied them up again, letting her eyes drift casually over the garden. There! She caught sight of a man, standing in the shadow of a building, watching her intently. Their eyes met for the briefest instant before he turned sharply and disappeared behind the building.

Lu-Jean warily arose to her feet. Even with her rudimentary Force skills, she was sure of one thing–her shadower was a Force-sensitive, and a pretty strong one too, at that.

She wondered whether to go and warn Bail–but she pushed that thought out of her mind. She could do this by herself. Quickening her pace, she headed in the direction of the building where he'd disappeared. A rapid search of the shack revealed nothing–the shack was abandoned, and, except for a few odd assortments, completely empty. She looked about for a moment, and caught sight of the man again. He was standing motionlessly a few feet away from her, and staring right at her.

They held each other's gaze for a moment before he walked forward rapidly and entered the shack. With a suspicious frown on her face, she followed him.

The man had a rather plump figure, with a flabby tummy and fat cheeks, and had a face so cheerful it bordered on asinine. He was smiling at her now, a smile so wide it was almost ridiculous. "Hello! I don't think I've seen you in these parts."

She stared at him. "Is that why you were watching me?"

"Well, yes." He shrugged. The smile wouldn't leave his face. "Strangers are rare in these parts. Who are you?"

The question was said offhandedly, but Lu-Jean could sense the stranger's undercurrent of curiosity, and was on the guard at once. "What's it to you?"

His smile brightened by a few degrees. "Ah, aren't we a very cagey lot around here?"

"And you'd like things to be different? I don't seem to recall you mentioning your name or your reason for being here," she retorted crossly. The man was definitely Force-sensitive, she had no doubt of that now. _But what's with the stupid grin?_

"Ah, I'm so sorry," the man said. "I completely forgot. I am Fess Ilee."

He held out his hand and Lu-Jean shook it. "And?" she prompted after a while.

"And what?" he asked.

"You've told me your name, but that doesn't ring a bell. What are you doing here?"

He appeared to be rather confused on that point. "Oh, I help out a bit." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the gardens.

"With the gardening?" she asked skeptically. "Funny, you don't seem to have a flair for–"

"No, not with the gardening," he said quickly. "I help Bail Organa."

"With what?"

"I'm really not at liberty to say," he replied, still with that silly smile on his face.

Lu-Jean raised an eyebrow, feeling a scornful grim spread over her face. "Really. Well, if I don't know who you are, I can't really trust you, can I?"

"Ah, well, I don't know who you are either," the man responded unexpectedly. "I can't trust you either, can I?"

The comment struck home, possibly more than Fess had intended it to. Who would trust Palpatine's daughter, except a fanatic Imperialist? She nodded glumly. "You're right."

The memory of her parentage reminded her of the problem she had to deal with. But she wasn't any closer to an answer than she was before. In frustration, she ran a hand through her hair before sliding down to the ground.

Fess tut-tutted. "Ooh, you look a sorry sight, miss. Are you sure you're all right? Feeling faint, perhaps? I could–"

"Shut up, you," she muttered grumblingly, glaring up at the stranger. The new and unexpected discovery that this man was Force-sensitive intruded into her thoughts, and she couldn't get it out of her mind. Did Fess know? Of course he did. He was strong in the Force, Lu-Jean could feel it.

She toyed with the idea of asking him straight-out. She was certain Fess knew he was Force-sensitive, so no other harm could come of it –except that Fess would probably come to the conclusion that she was Force-sensitive as well, if he hadn't already. Besides, he looked far too dim to use that information anyway.

"You're Force-sensitive."

She couldn't help but start, before looking up at the stranger. "So are you," she replied quietly.

Fess had lost his overly-cheerful smile, and now his face was more serious than anything Lu-Jean had ever seen. He was frowning, his face tense, and suddenly Lu-Jean wondered how she could ever have thought the man was dull. Without that awful grin, he looked pretty smart–smart enough to make her even more wary of him.

"Who are you?" he asked again, as if mechanically, before shaking his head in silent rebuke. "Sorry. I forgot; you don't trust me."

Arising to her feet, she watched Fess carefully. The Force didn't bleep out an alarm like it usually did, so the chances that Fess didn't mean her any harm were pretty high–but not as high as she'd have liked, considering that she still wasn't strong enough in the Force to pick up on emotions and intentions. Fess seemed to be having the same problem as well, but apparently he reached a rather different conclusion. "If it makes any difference to you, Bail trusts me well," he said at last.

"How reassuring," Lu-Jean murmured, wondering for the thousandth time whether her suspicion of the senator was unfounded. After all, her mother had vouched for him and Bail seemed good enough.

And if Bail did plan to turn her over to the Emperor–she still couldn't think of him as her father–there wasn't anything much she could do about it. On the other hand, if he really were trustworthy, she'd be an idiot not to let him help her out. Either way, she didn't have much choice except to hope that her mother was right, on this count at least.

With the heaviness that came of reluctant resignation, she looked at Fess. "I'm about to pay him a visit. Would you like to come?"

The frightful smile was back on his face again, with the ease that suggested he'd been practicing it for years. "I'd love to," he gushed.

Lu-Jean nearly rolled her eyes as he trotted forward. Together they exited the building.

As they walked toward the Alderaan Royal Palace, Lu-Jean became more and more sure of one thing–Fess wasn't all that he seemed.

The reception room that Lu-Jean had been directed to the first time she'd entered the building, the one in which she'd met the senator, was empty. Lu-Jean stared with disappointment at the empty room, wondering why she'd be so silly as to assume he'd just sit there and wait for her to come back, and how in the world she was to go about finding him now–she couldn't go rambling about the palace trying to find him.

"You're looking for the senator, yes?" Fess asked. She nodded glumly. "Follow me, then."

She stared at his retreating back before following him. "You know where he'll be?" she asked after catching up. For a stout man, Fess could walk real fast when he wanted to.

"I know where his study is. It's where he spends half his time, at least on the usual days. Unless he had some urgent work to attend to, that's where he'll be."

 _Good to see at least one of us knows what he's doing_ , Lu-Jean thought as she walked by Fess' side while he traversed the great corridors of the palace. Despite her dislike of posh places like this one, she couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of it all. She remembered some old acquaintance of her mother telling her that Alderaan was a beautiful planet. She'd been only about five then, but the descriptions had mesmerized her. She recalled wishing she could go to Alderaan. Her mother had smiled sadly at that, though she hadn't replied.

 _Well, it looks as though I'm going to get a fine tour of it now, seeing as I'm going to be stuck her for quite a while._

Fess certainly seemed to know his way about the palace. Fifteen seconds hadn't even passed before Lu-Jean had become lost, but he took every turn confidently, without even the slightest hesitation. Finally Fess stopped at a door guarded by a golden droid. "Hello, C-3PO," he said pleasantly.

The droid turned and saw them. "Ah, Master Olin, its good to see you, sir!" his golden eyes caught sight of her then. "And you. I am C-3PO, and I'm humbly at your service!" he said, with a low bow.

Lu-Jean didn't bother to suppress a grimace. Of all the droids she'd met–and there were quite a few of them–protocol droids were the worst. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know your name–"

"You don't need to," she snapped, before Fess stepped in smoothly. "Ah, 3PO, is the senator in?" he asked.

"Yes he is, sir, and he did say he wouldn't be disturbed unless it was something important."

"I'm sure this classifies as important," Lu-Jean said, brushing past the droid and ignoring its eloquent protests. Opening the door, she slipped inside.

Once inside, she stopped in hesitation. Bail was indeed in his study, as the droid had reported, but he wasn't alone. A girl was beside him, sitting on the arm of his chair and whispering something in his ear. She had long black hair, left loose so it draped over her shoulders, and brown eyes which looked up quickly as Lu-Jean entered.

Bail looked at her and smiled. "Ah, there you are. I hope you've reached a decision?"

"Yes, I have," she replied as Fess stepped in and stood beside her, offering Bail a nod and a small bow. Apparently he'd successfully navigated past the golden droid as well.

"Good." Bail turned to the girl–whoever she was. Lu-Jean suspected she was his daughter, but she'd now way of knowing for sure. "Leia, dear, will you leave us for a minute, please?"

She dipped her head in silent assent before slipping off the armrest. She looked with interest at Lu-Jean as she went past, but Lu-Jean couldn't help noticing she hardly bothered to give Fess a second glance.

Once the door was closed, Bail waved them to the chairs. "Please, sit."

She shook her head. "I prefer to stand, thanks."

"And I'm trying to slim," Fess said, and Lu-Jean was startled to see him winking at the senator, who gave a brief grin. "Very well. So what is the decision you've reached?"

Lu-Jean bit her lip. "Ah, Senator, I'd prefer to discuss this in private–"

"Fess is one of my most trusted men," Bail replied. "You can tell him anything you'd tell me."

Lu-Jean raised an eyebrow and nearly said, "I fear for the fate of Alderaan then, if all of your most trusted men are like Fess," but stopped herself. Fess was a Force-sensitive, and clearly a lot more than he let on. Maybe it was she who was wrong about him.

She took a deep breath before beginning. "My mother told me you could be trusted, and though her judgments aren't always perfect, this time it seems I have no choice. Either you can be trusted, or you can't, and there's precious little I can do about it."

Bail nodded thoughtfully. "Good."

She stared at him. "That's all you're going to say? You're not going to try and convince me of your trustworthiness?"

He laughed. "For all the good that will do. you've decided to accept my help, and that's good enough. I hope, in time, to convince you that I can be trusted, of course, but that can wait."

"Yes, well, there's still the question of how I'm going to survive."

"That's an easy one. I make you my ward."

"No," she said sharply, before she could stop herself. "That's a terrible idea. The Empire is looking for me, don't forget. And if a ward suddenly pops up in your care, you're going to have loads of trouble. Everybody will recognize me too, at least everyone who knew my mother. You did too. No, Senator, that's not a good idea."

Bail considered her thoughtfully. "I see you've thought this one out. What do you suggest?"

Lu-Jean smiled at him. "Do you have any need for household servants? I could pass off as one."

Bail was shaking his head even before she finished. "I can't possibly allow that. you're my closest friend's daughter, and a senator's, no less. Reducing you to the level of servant–"

"Is the only way to ensure my continued existence in Alderaan," she finished, with some heat. "Introduce me as Lu-Jean, your ward, and the next day you'll have a troop of stormtroopers knocking on your door–or barging in, as seems to be their MO. I don't mind being a servant as much as I mind being dead. And please don't give me that stuff about being a senator's daughter. I've been in plenty of worse situations, I assure you. And I can be in even worse."

Bail stared at her, his displeasure obvious. He finally turned to Fess. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm completely lost," he replied. Again Lu-Jean started on seeing his grim face–the smile had disappeared again.

"Ah–Lu-Jean, would you mind stepping out for the minute?" Bail asked.

Lu-Jean scowled. "You're not going to tell him anything about me, are you?"

"Nothing related to those two sentences, I assure you."

She frowned. "All right." She turned and left.

The droid met her outside the door, his arms waving. "Ah, miss! It's good to see you again!"

"Shut up," she muttered. She wondered whether to eavesdrop, but decided against it. her mother had always been very disapproving of such underhanded tricks. So she settled for sitting in one of the low chairs next to the study, burying her face and trying to ignore the constant flow of chatter that the protocol droid kept up.

Fess stared at the door as she slipped out, then turned back to Bail. "Explain."

* * *

That's probably the last chapter for a while. I have my exams coming up, so I can't upload anymore for a month...:-( sorry.


	5. Mostly Talking

Bail had a look on his face which was far too innocent for Fess. "I'm not going to like this, am I? Who is she?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that." the Senator looked rather apologetic, but firm at the same time. "It's a secret I promised to keep."

Fess frowned. "Promised who?"

"Her mother. At the moment all I can tell you is that the Empire wants her badly, and Fess, we have to keep them from getting their hands on her at all costs." Bail's voice was grave.

"Because she's strong in the Force?"

He looked startled for a moment, then his face cleared. "Oh. You got that from the Force, I assume. It's been ten years since I last dealt with the Jedi, I'm rather beginning to forget about their wide range of skills." He looked faintly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

Fess nodded tightly, suppressing the emotions that surfaced at Bail's words and threatened to engulf him. For a second, there was a tense silence as he fought within himself. This was a battle that he waged daily; even after ten years, the pain and ache hadn't gone away. He suspected they never would. "It's all right," he said, with as much indifference as he could manage. Bail didn't need to know how broken he was inside. The outside was bad enough. he smiled briefly, remembering Lu-Jean's look of pure scorn as she'd talked with him. Clearly his disguise was doing its job well. Too well, in fact; the man whom he saw when he looked into the mirror was not Ferus Olin. "The time of the Jedi is long gone."

"Lu-Jean is a Force-sensitive," Bail repeated, swiftly changing the topic to a more comfortable one. "And yes, that is why the Empire wants her." He looked at Fess with some curiosity. "You said she's strong. Is she exceptionally so?"

With some difficulty, Fess pulled himself back from the past. "Yes, I'd venture to say she's stronger than any other Force-sensitive I've met. Almost, anyway," he added, thinking of Vader and Master Yoda and even Master Obi-Wan. "She's raw, though. Even strong Force potential won't come to much if her skills aren't honed. If she'd gone to the Jedi Temple for training, she would've excelled."

"And since there isn't any Jedi Temple she can go to…"

"Yes." Fess sighed. "I'm afraid her skills won't be of much use."

 _Pity,_ he thought to himself. _Her Force skills are really outstanding._

The silence grew in the room till Fess grew suspicious. He knew that silence. It always meant Bail had something on his mind–something that Fess nearly always took exception to. "What?" he asked sharply.

Bail looked up, and again the look of pure innocence was back on his face. "Huh?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking, it's not going to happen. I'm not going to go for it."

Bail arose to his full height. "I have a proposition to make. A suggestion, if you will." Fess opened his mouth to retort, but the Senator raised a hand, forestalling any reply. "Trust me, you're going to like this one. You thoughtfully mentioned out that Lu-Jean couldn't receive Force training as there was nowhere she could go to get it; I seem to recall you attending a Force academy yourself, at some point of time in the past. You were a pretty brilliant student too, if I remember correctly. Your Master spoke highly of you."

Fess stared at him with some puzzlement, then it dawned on him. "You're asking me to–"

"Yes."

"–teach her. In the ways of the Force."

"Exactly." Bail nodded.

Fess frowned again. "Somehow, I hardly think Lu-Jean will agree to be my apprentice." He looked pointedly down at his bulging belly. "Do I look like a powerful Force-sensitive to you? Because if I do, my disguise needs some work."

The senator smiled. "I'm sure you'll convince her otherwise. A simple lightsaber duel ought to do it. You have a lightsaber, yes?"

Fess nodded. "Two, in fact. But lightsabers aren't the problem."

"Then what is?" he pressed.

He let out an irritated sigh. "I've never taught anyone! I've no idea how to teach her."

Bail smiled with the air of one who knew he'd already won the argument. "There's always a first time. I think you've proved you are able enough to teach."

"I have? How so?"

"You fought Darth Vader, for one."

Fess blew out his breath. "That only proves my lightsaber skills aren't bad. Only Jedi Masters teach, and I don't think I've attained that level yet."

"Of course you don't. Maybe I should ask Master Obi-Wan for his opinion."

"Speaking of Master Obi-Wan…"

The Senator gave a tired smile. "Really. You think I should send Lu-Jean to Tatooine so she can be taught by Master Obi-Wan?"

"The idea has merit, you have to admit. He did teach an apprentice once."

Bail hesitated. "I don't think he would willingly take on another student, especially after what happened to the last one…besides, he's busy with–something else."

"Ah, the big secret no one told me about." Fess gave a slightly scornful smile. "This galaxy is simply bursting with secrets."

The Senator raised an eyebrow. "Lu-Jean would probably say the same thing if she were standing here instead of you and asked who you were."

Fess' mocking grin gave way to a chagrined one. "She would, wouldn't she?"

"Fess, I thought you were interested in making sure the Jedi didn't die out completely. This is your chance to do so. You really don't have any reason to refuse to teach her, and there isn't anyone better suited than you that I know of." He paused for a bit. "Besides, with the Empire hot on her heels, she'll need to be properly trained to survive."

Fess opened his mouth to reply, shut it again. Finally he gave a nod. "I'll do it." then he asked, "What are you going to tell her?"

"I don't know."

Fess gave a cheeky grin. "I thought so." He turned to leave. "Just don't tell her who I am."

"I won't. And Fess?"

He stopped.

"I get the feeling Lu-Jean won't trust anyone easily–"

He gave a snort. "Somehow I understood that."

"–so if she does tell you anything about herself, take it as a positive sign that she's opening up to you."

He mulled over that, then half-turned. "Are you trying to brace me for a revelation I won't like very much?" he asked suspiciously, looking at Bail.

The senator had retreated behind his innocent look. "Maybe."

Fess stared for a while longer, then decided he wouldn't be able to get anything much out of the senator, and turned again to leave. "I leave the telling part to you, Bail. Send her to my room when she adjusts to the fact that I'm to be her teacher, will you?"

He sensed Bail's nod. Then the door was sliding smoothly open in front of him. Lu-Jean appeared and looked cautiously at him. He offered her a polite smile, nodded at 3PO, and walked off down the corridor.

After a minute, he began grinning–and it wasn't the dreadful grin he'd pasted on his face over ten years ago. This was a genuinely amused grin. Just a few days ago he'd been complaining (to himself) that his life was really boring. It looked like it was going to get exciting again.

"I hope," Lu-Jean began, "I do hope you haven't told him anything about me."

"Except for the fact that you're hiding from the Empire, no."

"And that's nothing, is it?" she asked hotly.

Bail was sitting behind his desk again. He looked at her calmly. "Lu-Jean, protecting you will be a whole lot easier if you didn't immediately assume everybody was an Imperial."

"Aren't they?"

"Not all of them, no." He gave her a smile. "I've known Fess for ten years now, and he hasn't done anything to make me even the slightest bit suspicious of his loyalties."

"My mother had some acquaintances she knew from childhood, Senator," she snapped back. "They all let her down."

"Fess found out about a traitor in my household–my sister-in-law, in fact."

"Good for him." She paused. "Wait. Sister-in-law? You're married?"

He grinned suddenly. "My wife is the Queen of Alderaan."

"And Leia is your daughter."

"Adopted, yes."

She stared at him. "I didn't think Senators were the sort of people who adopted children."

"Which just proves my point of how wrong you are about everyone in the galaxy being untrustworthy."

Lu-Jean grit her teeth, bit back a retort. She'd seen the Senator and his daughter together, and his eyes as he'd talked with her. over the years, she'd learnt to pay special attention to the eyes; they told you everything. The senator's had been brimming with love. And that, she was sure, wasn't an act.

Unless Bail was so used to acting it had become second nature to him, which could very well be the case, given his profession. Senators were notoriously slimy.

She finally slipped into the chair in front of his desk, clasped her fingers together. "Fine. Maybe you're right. That doesn't make me any less suspicious of you."

"you know, for a ten year old, you really are very–"

"Silly?" she asked anxiously.

He looked faintly startled. "I meant to say _mistrustful_. You're anything but silly."

"Oh, good. I hate silly people. Case in point, your friend, Fess Ilee."

Bail looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Speaking of Fess, you do know he's Force-sensitive, don't you?" Lu-Jean nodded. "Well, he's highly skilled in the Force–"

"Yes, I sort of figured that out."

He frowned. "Stop interrupting."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

He took a deep breath. "Anyway, since you are Force-sensitive and have no one to teach you how to develop your potential, I was wondering if you'd take up his offer of teaching you."

Lu-Jean gaped at him. For a full half-minute. "Offer?" she asked at last, blankly. He nodded. "Of teaching me." another nod. "Him. That paunchy-stomached, doe-eyed, seriously overweight person teach me. Have you gone brain-dead?"

Quite unexpectedly, Bail's eyes grew a bit chilly. "I think–no, I'm positively certain he knows a lot more about the Force than you do."

"Really." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Tell me, Lu-Jean, with your high Force-sensitivity, couldn't you feel how strong he was? I know I'm not Force-sensitive, so I can't; but based on his actions I'm pretty sure he's stronger than the average Jedi I was acquainted with before the Jedi Purge."

Lu-Jean was silent. She couldn't deny the Senator had a point. Fess did seem to have more attuned to the Force than the few other Force-sensitives she'd met in her travels. But still…she grimaced as Fess' silly jaw-breaking smile, his paunchy body appeared in her memory. "Somehow, he doesn't look as though he could hold a lightsaber, let alone fight with it."

Bail looked grave. "I'm sure you're familiar enough with the galaxy to realize that people aren't always all they seem."

"No. No, they're not."

He seemed to be making a supreme effort to keep himself from snapping at her. "All right. Since I obviously can't force you to take up his offer, I'll leave it to you to decide."

"And I throw the proposition into the waste-basket without a second thought."

"Suit yourself. I've decided to take up your offer of maidservant."

Lu-Jean let out a sigh of relief and sagged in her seat. "Thank you."

"You'll be working for me daughter, Leia. I'll sort it out with her. don't worry, I'll ask her not to bog you down with loads of work."

"I think I'm strong enough to do whatever she wants me to, Senator," she replied. "You don't want her getting a wind of who I am, do you?"

He gave a thin smile. "Oh, that's right. I forgot you were the master of skepticism. I'll still going to tell her not to give you too much work."

"Your kindness is overwhelming," she said drily. "Do I start work from today?"

"No, tomorrow. You've had a long day; I thought it would be wiser to give you some rest."

"Again, thank you for your kindness."

"I'll talk to her today and sort it all out." He hesitated. "Can you do me a favor in return?"

She sighed silently. _Here it comes again. Nothing is without a cost_. "What?"

"You should go and see Fess. He–"

"No thank you," she snapped, getting up from her seat. "I don't trust him anymore than I trust a Hutt."

He got up too. "You're signing your own death sentence, then." His voice was quiet, but Lu-Jean was shocked to see the steel in his eyes. "I can't guarantee you complete safety even here on Alderaan, since I have to bow to the wishes of the Emperor. Even as a servant, you won't go completely unnoticed. If a visiting Moff or Senator catches sight of your face and sees the similarity between your features and those of your mother, you'll be caught. The chances are low, since no one expects a maidservant to be the daughter of a senator, but not nonexistent. And even if you do manage to survive for a decade or so, what then? The emperor will never stop searching for you. You have enormous Force potential, but what good will it do if you don't know how to use it well?"

"I'll take my chances, Senator," she said, calmly enough, despite the fear that had risen up at his words.

Bail looked as if he whole-heartedly disagreed, but he didn't say anything further on the matter. "My daughter will probably be in the gardens, near where you took a stroll. Will you please find her, tell her to come to me, please?"

"Ah, and so I begin my work."

"If it's not too much trouble," he said with a slightly scornful grin.

"Will she even listen to me?"

"Oh, I think she will."

Lu-Jean regarded him for a bit longer, again stretching out with the Force for any signs of duplicity or treachery. Again, zilch. She nodded fractionally and moved out, heading toward the garden.

She caught sight of Leia almost instantly, racing around the garden as if running a marathon. She watched her in confusion for a minute, then walked down the stairs to intercept her. after a few minutes, she finally caught up.

Leia's long black hair was still loose, and flying and messy. She was drenched in sweat and panting heavily as she looked at Lu-Jean. "What?" she aske,d rather irritably.

"What are you doing?"

Leia looked slightly amused. "Why, running. What did you think?"

Lu-Jean stared. "What for?"

"For the fun of it," she replied. "And if that's all, I think I've another lap to do."

Lu-Jean caught her arm just before she shot off again. "Wait. Your father sent me. He wants to talk."

Her eyes lit up. "About time. I desperately wanted him to raise my allowance. Well, see you later!" her cheerful expression turned slightly bemused. "Whoever you are."

She turned to leave, but Lu-Jean stopped her again. "Wait. Do you know who Fess Ilee is?"

Leia looked faintly disgusted at hearing the name. "He's a botanist who lives hereabouts. Why?"

Botanist. Fess was a botanist. And Bail actually wanted her to learn from him? "I wanted to talk to him for a bit."

Her disgust grew. "Don't waste your time. He's a complete–" she struggled for the right word.

"Laser-brained nerfherder?" she suggested.

Leia looked pleased. "Yeah, exactly. My dad doesn't want me to use such words, though. He thinks its inappropriate."

"For you, maybe. You're a senator's daughter." The words were barely out of Lu-Jean's mouth before she remembered that she, too, was a senator's daughter.

"I'm sick of hearing that," she grumbled.

"Fess?" she prompted.

"Oh, he lives over there." Leia waved at a small, but expensive-looking building a little way from the palace.

Lu-Jean nodded. "Thank you."

Leia didn't bother to reply, instead turning and running up the stairs with a speed that surprised her. She headed toward the building Leia had pointed out to her.

Leia bounced into her father's office with barely a knock. "So, dad? Have you made up your mind yet? Can I have a raise? Please say yes, please!"

"Later, Leia." Bail's voice was soft, but firm. Leia sighed dramatically as she flopped into a chair. "I've something more important to discuss."

"What could be more important than pocket money?" she wailed. "And when you say late, how late do you mean?"

"Leia."

She sat up straight, feeling a little embarrassed. Her father was sitting calmly at his desk, neatly dressed as always, and completely at ease. "Sorry."

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "What took you so long to get here?"

"Oh, I chatted a bit with the girl you sent to fetch me. she wanted to know where Fess lived." She grimaced again at that name. of all the people she loathed most, Fess was somewhere at the top–secondary only to Moff Tarkin, maybe.

"Did she?" Father looked pleased at that, though for no reason she could fathom. Father seemed to have a high regard for the old man–the laser-brained nerfherder, as the black-haired girl with the serious eyes so eloquently put it. she smiled happily. Maybe she could get her to teach her a few more choice words.

"I take it your talk went well?"

She shrugged. "Oh, she's all right, I guess. Rather serious, though. And well-versed."

He frowned. "What?"

"Never mind."

Father looked a bit suspicious, but he let it go at that. "Leia, she's going to be your servant."

"What!"

"Shush," he said quietly.

"Servant!" she sat bolt upright, staring at her father's serious face. Was he joking? No, he wasn't joking. Touch of the sun, maybe? "You're not serious."

"I am. Come over here."

She slipped obligingly out of her seat and into his lap. He stroked her hair gently and spoke very softly. Leia knew instantly that this was a very serious matter indeed. "Now remember, Leia, this talk is to be kept secret. You mustn't tell anything I tell you to anybody."

"Even mom?"

"No, you can tell mom. In fact, I'm going to tell her myself."

"Winter?"

He looked a bit skeptical. "Maybe later. For now, keep this only to yourself. All right?" she nodded solemnly. "Now the girl you met is trying to hide from the Emperor for some reasons you don't need to know. The best way to keep her safe is to make her your servant. If I had a choice, I'd probably make her a ward, but then she'd be a lot more open to the general public, a lot more in the limelight, and I don't want that. Now you can make her work, if you like, but remember, the only reason I'm not making her a ward is because that will be dangerous, all right? So don't treat her like a personal slave. She's not to be overworked. Give her as little work as possible, treat her as a friend, the way you treat Winter. All right?"

She nodded dumbly, though inwardly she was grinning like an idiot. A servant–this had distinct possibilities. A scape-goat. A personal droid. She couldn't wait.

"What about the raise?" she asked.

Couldn't resist another chapter! But this is definitely my last one till my exams get over…don't expect any more till September 21st.


	6. First Impressions

**Next chapter is finally up! Please Review! This is my first fanfic and I need some serious encouragement–or discouragement, if you think I'm an appalling writer and should find some other way to pass my time. Either way, a review would be good. Positive and negative reviews are equally valued. Well, almost equally.**

Fess opened the door himself. He didn't look surprised to see her. "Hello. Come on in."

Lu-Jean stepped inside thinking she knew what to expect–exquisite furniture, gaudy decorations and the like. She was wrong.

The room was big–about as big as she'd expected it to be considering the size of the house and that fact that he was, apparently, Bail's guest–but, except for all the basic necessities and a painting that looked slightly less terrible than Fess' smile did right then, it was completely bare. Empty.

Her surprise must have shown on her face, because Fess asked, "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. He didn't seem fooled. He turned and gave the room a once-over. "I know, it's not much. You were expecting something different?"

She shook her head again. "Ah, no." A shrug. "Something more, I guess, since you are the Senator's guest–" she trailed off and pitted him with a glare. "Are you?"

"Of sorts," he said casually, waving her to a seat. "We've been over this territory before, remember?"

"I can't take my mind off it. frankly, I don't think you can either."

Fess waited for a second longer, seemed to understand she wasn't going to sit, and slipped into a chair himself, slowly and with a soft groan. Lu-Jean's eyes rested on his chubby face and hands, and suppressed a grimace. No way was she going to take lessons from this old man.

He interlaced his fingers together and looked at her expectantly. "So, what did you come to see me about?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I think you already know that."

"I know you haven't accepted Bail's offer of having me teach you. I–"

"How'd you know that?"

He smiled, not his usual goofy grin but a slightly patronizing one. "Please. I saw the look in your eyes when I sat down. You wouldn't have been that scornful if you'd actually agreed to be under my tutelage."

Lu-Jean revised her opinion of the man. He was, surprisingly, pretty observant–given the level of control she had over her expressions, it would have taken an extraordinarily sharp-eyed man to figure out what she was thinking. She let her lips curl, just a bit. "Spot-on. I found the idea slightly ridiculous."

He grinned again, and Lu-Jean's opinion of him went up another notch. No one who grinned like that could be as goofy as Fess made himself out to be. Even forgetting the fact that Fess was a Force-sensitive, there was a lot more going on underneath the surface than what she'd believed. Something was very wrong here. "Oh, I think you found it a little bit more than _slightly_ ridiculous."

"Correct, again. You know, you're not as stupid as you look."

He inclined his head in a bow. "Thank you. So what exactly did you come to see me about?"

Lu-Jean decided standing was futile when it was so much more better to sit. She strode over and flopped into the chair Fess had pointed her to. "Oh, I was just wondering what made you think you were able enough to teach me."

"You just said I'm not as stupid as I look," he replied gravely. "Maybe your opinion of me is way off-track."

She chuckled. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Maybe I'm a Jedi in hiding."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you?"

The stupid grin was back on. "What do you think?"

For the second time in as many minutes, she let her gaze flick over the man. "I think you're a bit of a buffoon. You mean well, you're slightly brighter than anyone would believe, and your heart is probably as innocent as that of a newborn baby–maybe even more that that–but I wouldn't call you _smart_ even if someone paid me to."

She got up to leave.

Or rather, tried to.

She was being pinned to her chair by an invisible force– _the_ Force, she realized after a second of useless struggling. Fess was staring at her, unblinkingly, and the look in his eyes made a shiver go up her spine. She tried to use the Force to counter him, but to no avail. Again she wriggled, but it was as if she were pinned securely. At last, after another bout of wriggling, she fell back, feeling humiliated and even annoyed. "Fine, you win."

The pressure on her chest disappeared. Fess sat back, looking rather pleased with himself –which only served to make her even more irritated. "Call me smart now?" he asked casually.

She got to her feet with all the dignity she could muster. "No," she bit out. "Strong in the Force, maybe. But not smart."

Fess regarded her coolly. Lu-Jean knew what she must have looked like right then–she'd glared at the mirror often enough, she knew how her eye blazed and nostrils flared when she was in a temper–but Fess didn't seem even a tad unfazed. Reluctantly, her opinion went from _bit of an idiot_ to _watch out, he's dangerous_. "Has anyone ever told you that you're far too arrogant?"

"Not in a while."

He nodded as if he'd expected that. "Thought so." He got up. "Well, if that little display didn't suffice to show you exactly how able I am, then I'm afraid I can't help you. The door's right where you left it–please close it when you go out."

He turned to leave. Lu-Jean watched him go with a frown on her face. "That's it?"

He stopped and turned, his expression slightly amused. "What, you were expecting a light and sound show?"

"I was expecting you to beg."

His chin came up. "I don't beg."

She rolled her eyes. "Bail seemed very insistent that you teach me. I assumed that was because you asked him to be."

"No. The Senator was insistent because he wanted to make sure you knew how to use the Force properly, so you'd be able to defeat anything the Empire threw at you. I suppose he thought you'd be the first of the new generation of Jedi, now that the old ones are all gone."

His voice was curiously devoid of feeling, and Lu-Jean wondered briefly if he had been saying the truth about his being a Jedi. "And you disagree?"

"If I did, I wouldn't have agreed to teach you." His eyes were calm, but had an ardor behind them that made her completely flummoxed. "I want to teach you, but I can't teach someone who doesn't want to learn."

"I never said that! You just don't seem like teacher material, that's all."

All trace of his goofiness was gone by now. He waved a hand at the chair she'd been occupying. "That wasn't proof enough?"

"No."

"You're too stubborn to admit your initial opinion of me was wrong."

She crossed her arms. "I'll revise my opinion only when you give me adequate reason to, old man."

She didn't even see it coming–which was humiliation in itself. One second she was standing, glaring up at Fess' chubby face, the next, she was hurtling back across the room and had rammed against the still-closed door. She collapsed to the floor, gasping–more in shock than out of pain–then stared at Fess. He hadn't even moved.

Glaring, she got to her feet, warily testing her limbs to see if they'd been hurt. Apparently, Fess had been kind. She leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh. "Whoa, I didn't see that coming."

The man looked sympathetic as he walked over to her. "Sorry, but you were just too obstinate."

"One of my worst faults. Sadly, I have many of them." She rubbed her throbbing elbow and glanced up at Fess, a chagrined smile spreading across her face and replacing her frown. "Ouch."

"Not badly hurt, I hope?"

"You know that's a stupid question. For a Force smack that was pretty gentle."

"Force push," he corrected mildly.

Lu-Jean waved a hand at him. "Please. A push would be what you just did. The average _push_ is actually much stronger. Push is simply a very watered-down word for it, don't you think?"

"I suppose," he conceded.

They stood for a while in awkward silence, broken by Lu-Jean, who asked, with a casual indifference that belied her interest, "What else can you do, besides smacks…er, pushes?"

"Virtually everything in the Jedi schoolbook," he said. "Manipulation, telekinesis, lightsaber fighting, you name it, I can do it."

"Great." Lu-Jean smiled, with the first feeling of genuine happiness ever since Naboo and The Terrible Truth. "Looks like I'm going to be real busy, then."

Fess frowned in puzzlement, only for a second before his face cleared and he smiled. "You're accepting."

Lu-Jean shrugged. "What can I say? I don't want to disappoint the Senator."

Leia looked up from her datapad as Lu-Jean entered her bedroom. She gave a pleasant smile, one that Lu-Jean suspected was kept primarily for unwanted guests and servants only. "There you are. Three minutes late, what's more. Not a very good first impression."

Lu-Jean bit back a sharp reply. First impressions, indeed. "Sorry, M'lady," she said, as meekly as she could manage without sounding too meek.

Leia got up from her bed and walked over. "My wardrobe needs cleaning. It's a mess; I could get lost in there. Clean it up for me, would you, Beth?"

"Ah…sure." Beth Altiris was the name she and Bail had agreed upon only a day earlier, just a minute before introducing her to Leia. The new name would take some getting used to.

"Good. After that I need you to sew up my blue dress for me–it's over there, in a closet in the refresher. I don't' want my aunts finding out I tore it again. I hope you can sew?" she asked anxiously. Lu-Jean shook her head, too unsure of what her voice would sound like if she spoke. "Perfect. And I thought all servants could sew. Well, just do it up anyhow–my aunts prefer to see a basic attempt at mending a tear as opposed to complete indifference. And clean up my room too."

She pulled out a pair of boots and began to pull them on. "I'm sorry, I've never had a servant before. But all my friends do, and apparently, from what I've heard, female servants can do all sorts of things in very little time. You should hear them talk–anyway, if you think you're not being given enough work, don't hesitate to tell me."

"Of course not," Lu-Jean said, resisting the urge to add, "No fear of that. you've given me enough work for a lifetime. What do you think I am, a droid? Senators, hah!"

"Great." She stood up straight again, flashing her a grin. "You know, all this while I thought having a servant would be a terrible thing, but I think I'm going to quite like it." She glanced around her room. Lu-Jean, for the first time since she'd entered it, properly took in her surroundings and suppressed a shudder. "For one thing, my room's going to be a lot cleaner. My aunts always tell me to learn from my friends and their clean rooms–they completely forget that all those girls have servants, which leaves me at a disadvantage. Well, have fun!" She strode past her, then stopped and looked around. "Oh, and one more thing–prepare my rancor. I'm in the mood for a little exercise."

She walked off, whistling a merry tune. Lu-Jean stood there in blank silence for a second before the full weight of what Leia had just said crashed upon her.

She ran after the girl. "Wait. Rancor?"

"Yes. Surely you've heard of them?"

"Prepare?"

Leia stopped in front of the door and turned to look at her with an expression suggesting she wasn't exactly impressed by Lu-Jean's slow understanding. "Yes. Clean it, feed it, make sure It's up to a ride." She spoke slowly, enunciating each word carefully as if she thought Lu-Jean had a hearing problem.

Lu-Jean was too worried to take offense at that. "I don't know how to do any of that!" she said despairingly, with a sudden realization that something had gone really wrong somewhere. Bail had told her just yesterday that she wouldn't have to do anything much, and now here was her 'mistress', heaping work on her. "I don't even know what a rancor looks like, I've never seen one before."

Leia let out an irritated sigh. "Then what exactly is the point of you? Fine, just go and ask the servants tending to the rancors what you're supposed to do. I'm sure they'll be pleased to hoist off some of their work on you."

The door slid open and Leia walked out into the corridor. "Well, don't just stand there. The rancors are probably in the feeding pen right now. Hi! Ready?"

This last was said to a young girl walking out of the room opposite to Leia's, and striding over to them. She was slender, fair, and was about Leia's and Lu-Jean's age, but what caught her attention was the girl's hair. It was white in colour, short and messy and flying about her head.

Lu-Jean stared for a moment before saying, "Your hair!"

Leia sighed dramatically. "Oh, dear. Her hair has always been like that, Beth. Winter, this is Beth, my servant. Beth, this is Winter, my father's ward and my best friend."

Winter raised an eyebrow. "Servant?" she asked carefully.

"Ward?" Lu-Jean asked, with the same level of puzzlement.

"Yes to both questions. My, aren't we really bright today?"

"You have a servant?"

"Leia, can I ask you a question?"

"Again, yes to both."

"Exactly how many wards does your father have up his sleeve?"

"Just the occasional one he doesn't tell me about," she responded drily. "He keeps a whole campful of them. Don't forget, rancor–clean and fed in twenty minutes. And do my wardrobe first, please?" she didn't even bother to listen to a response, instead turning to Winter with a smile. "Shall we?"

"Come on already."

They headed off down the corridor, arm-in-arm. When they were about ten paces away, Winter glanced back briefly and offered Lu-Jean a small smile before turning back again.

Lu-Jean sagged against the wall. Rancor. Leia had a rancor. She wiped her hand across a sweaty brow–why was she so nervous?–then remembered Leia's last command. With a long sigh, she headed back into the room.

Carefully avoiding looking at the bed, or the tables, or the chair, or the floor, and almost everything else but the wardrobe door, she walked across the room, her mind fuzzy. The only thing she could think about was the fact the Bail had reassured her she wouldn't have to work like a servant, only act like one, that she was in reality a ward, only pretending to be a servant, and that he'd let her down.

Rancor. Feed and clean the rancor.

She opened the wardrobe door wearily. Heapfuls of clothing tumbled out, haphazardly, falling on the floor and into her hands. Cloths of every shape and size, dresses, shorts, shirts, coats, more clothes than she'd ever seen in her life, more costly than she'd ever imagined clothes could cost. She stared up at the wardrobe, with its shelves spilling clothes, closed her eyes and collapsed on the ground. She sat down on Leia's clothing, paying no attention to the indignant scrunches, drew her legs up and laid her head on her arms, still full of clothing, and began to weep softly.

She cried for what felt like five minutes, her tears dampening the clothes and her weight probably permanently damaging the ones she was sitting on–not that she cared. She was too busy thinking about Ladine, about Palpatine, who was, apparently, her father, about the life that's she'd have to live now, on Alderaan, among people who were maybe friends or maybe not. Of Leia, with her bossy attitude. Of Fess, with his mysterious character, who was going to be her teacher. Of Bail, with his kind eyes and concern and–

"Gracious, child, what are you doing?"

The voice carried no accusation, no reprimand, merely surprise and worry. Lu-Jean looked blearily up, blinking her tears away, into the familiar face standing before her.

Speak of the kind eyes, and they shall appear, she thought.

Bail knelt down before her, looking in bemusement at the pile of clothes she was in for a second before turning his attention to her. "Beth, what's wrong?" he asked, and Lu-Jean nearly broke into another fit of tears at his voice. She pushed the clothes off her arms and tried in vain to wipe her tears away. "Leia asked me to clean everything…the wardrobe's a mess…and I've never fed a rancor before…and I hate…I hate…"

She wept again, and suddenly she was in Bail's arms, crying into his clothes. She could hear the steady thumping of his heart beneath his chest, the feel of his clothes, but all that was lost in light of that fact that she was actually in a Senator's arms, a Senator was holding her, the typical Senator would ever have done that. It felt so unreal, and yet she could feel his strong arms holding her, stroking her hair fondly as she cried.

She gulped hard as she slowly pulled away. "I'm fine," she managed.

Bail raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Yes, I can see that. Come on."

Even before she knew what was happening, Bail had caught her up and was cradling her. For a second she felt like resisting, but then Bail softly whispered, "I've hardly ever done this sort of thing before, even to Leia. Don't tell her, will you?"

She snuggled back into his arms, smiling through her tears. "Not a word."

Somehow, she couldn't imagine Palpatine doing this. Teaching her the ways of the Force, maybe. Holding her in his arms and carrying her? The thought made her grin. Bail saw her, but didn't comment on it.

He carried her all the way to his office, silencing the golden droid with a shake of his head and went in. even before Bail had cleared the doorway, Lu-Jean realized they had company.

Bail carefully set her down in a chair–his chair, Lu-Jean noted with increasing disbelief. His soft, comfy chair. He drew himself up and grinned as Fess hurried over with a questioning look on his face. Before he could say anything, however, Bail remarked drily, "You should have seen their faces, Fess. All those people we passed. They were literally gaping."

"I can well imagine," Fess replied. "A Senator carrying a servant. This will be the talk of nearly every pub and tavern in Alderaan in less than twenty-four hours–supposing you even have those here. I've never got around to finding out. What's wrong?"

"Apparently my daughter didn't quite understand my instructions."

Lu-Jean heaved herself upright in the chair. "You gave her instructions?"

"Why, definitely. Told her clearly that you weren't to be treated like a normal servant, just to be given basic duties to uphold the belief of your being her servant, and to otherwise treat you like she treats Winter–you have seen Winter, I hope?"

"Leia introduced us." Lu-Jean felt guilty at doubting Bail, then felt angry at herself for feeling guilty, then her feelings got all jumbled up and she had to stop thinking. Fess was asking, "Where's Leia now?"

"I've sent a servant to get her. Could be a while, so we might as well get properly acquainted with the situation first."

They both looked at Lu-Jean expectantly, who was just beginning to feel ashamed of the way she'd bawled in Leia's room, and before Bail, too. Yuck. "Oh, it's nothing. I just felt rather helpless and weird, that's all. In fact, I don't even know why I cried."

"I do," Bail said calmly. "You've just been separated from your mother, you're in a strange planet surrounded by strange people–"

"–and you're just a little girl," Fess finished, adding, "Though I have to admit, you hardly ever act like one."

"Yeah, well, I grew up fast," she muttered. "I'm fine, really."

"Stop saying that," Fess said.

"One of the things I've noticed is that whenever people say that they're fine, they're actually not," Bail said. "Except sometimes when Jedi say that."

"I am a Jedi."

"Not for another five years, Bethy," Fess said. "Four, at the most."

The door opened just then, and Leia stepped in, Winter beside her. "Dad?" she called.

Lu-Jean instantly wiped her tears away and tried to assume a look of nonchalance. Leia took one look at her, sitting comfortably in Bail's chair, and frowned. "What's she doing there?"

"Never mind her. Actually, Fess, Beth, could you go outside for a minute? I need to talk to my daughter alone."

Leia met her father's eyes. "Am I in trouble?" she asked quietly.

"Afraid so. Winter, please leave."

Leia turned to regard her companion, who was watching the scene with interest. "No, let her stay," she replied finally.

Bail nodded as Lu-Jean and Fess trooped out silently. When Lu-Jean looked back one last time, Bail was sitting in his chair and Leia was standing stiffly in front of him, Winter a safe distance away.

"Good morning, Master Fess, Mistress Beth!" the droid said. "How may I be of service?"

"You could shut up for a bit," she said sourly.

"Be nice to the droid," Fess admonished, a twinkle in his eye.

Lu-Jean growled. "I've never been nice to droids before."

"What's wrong?" Leia asked as soon as Fess and Beth had left. "I haven't done anything."

Bail looked back at her calmly. "Leia, do you remember what we said yesterday about Beth?"

"Her name was Beth, she was to be my servant, I would treat her like one–"

Her father raised a finger. "I said you were to treat her like a friend, except for the occasional job that she would have to do to maintain the charade of actually being your servant. Not once did I mention that you should give her so much work she'd have an emotional breakdown!"

"Have a what?"

Bail pulled her onto his lap. "I think I made it manifestly clear that I would have preferred to make her my ward. 'The only reason I'm not making her a ward is because that will be dangerous'. Those were my words exactly, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, well, I thought that since I was in possession of a servant, what was wrong with having some fun?"

"Now you're talking like a typical Senator's daughter."

She grimaced. "I am, aren't I?"

He nodded solemnly. "So you did remember what I told you."

Leia glanced down, unable to meet her father's gaze, so calm and yet so intense. "Yes," she said softly.

Her father sighed. "I'm disappointed, Leia. She's a good kid; the least you could have done was try and make friends with her."

She brought her head up sharply. "No, thank you, Dad. She's dimwitted, and she's silly."

He laughed. "You're way off course, darling. Beth is smarter than most people her age–in fact, she's smart and mature enough to be around twenty."

Leia raised an eyebrow, picturing the black-haired, puzzled girls standing blankly in her room, blinking away at her. "Beth?" she asked disbelievingly. "Mature?"

"Like I said, you're way off the track. You didn't even try to get to know her." He smiled. "Don't worry, I can change that."

Leia's eyed narrowed in suspicion. "What does that mean?"

"Clean out your wardrobe and room. Together. That should give you enough time to get acquainted."

"All three of us?" she pointed at Winter, standing quietly in one corner of the room. "Her too?"

Bail frowned. "All right, but promise me you won't talk only to her and ignore Beth completely."

"Done." Leia felt relieved; that was a small price to pay.

Her father smiled again, as if he was reading her mind. "And no rancor riding today."

"What!"

 **To all those ardent fans of Princess Leia Organa who feel slightly disgusted on reading this chapter, I have only two words for you–ten years. For all those who've read this far and are wondering exactly which year this is, it's 9 BBY.**

 **Don't forget to review, please! I'm asking nicely, the least you can do is comply with my itsy-bitsy request.**


	7. Getting To Know You & The First Lesson

**I meant to update this three days ago…I'm a sucker for procrastinating. :-D still, the result, I think, is worth the effort. A nice loooong chapter! I think I'm really beginning to get the hang of this.**

Leia was muttering to herself all the way to her room, all the way to her wardrobe, and even as she sat down and pulled a dress over to herself, she was muttering away. Lu-Jean didn't mind; she felt like doing a bit of muttering to herself too, just to get back. Leia wasn't the only one who could mutter, and besides, she had a lot more to mutter about. Leia couldn't in all honesty mutter, _I'm Palpatine's daughter. I'm the daughter of the most awful man to ever live and breathe._

In fact, Leia didn't have anything to mutter about, except that she couldn't go rancor-riding and she had to clean up her own trash. That didn't seem unfair to her.

They were sitting in front of the wardrobe now, looking dismally up at its contents. Silently, they got to work, folding clothes and making neat little piles. Lu-Jean glanced at Winter, the quiet, white-haired girl who hadn't spoken a word at all, sitting in the middle between them. Lu-Jean recalled how she'd given her a smile, clearly meant to be comforting. Maybe Winter was the better one of the two.

Leia suddenly said, "Talk."

Lu-Jean glanced up, wondering if Leia was directing her command at her. She was. "Excuse me?"

"Father wants me to get to know you better. So talk."

Lu-Jean suppressed a sigh. _I'm Palpatine's daughter, and I am Force-sensitive. Anything else? No, I thought not. That would take the wind out of anybody._ "What do you want to know?"

"Your past. Your family. Anything."

"What has the senator told you?"

"Not enough."

She pulled another dress toward her. "I can't tell you any more than that."

Leia gave an irritated sigh. "This is ridiculous."

Winter looked up from her folding. "Leia, I hate to say this but–your wardrobe's a mess."

"Tell that to her, she was supposed to clean it up!" Leia waved a finger at Lu-Jean.

"I wouldn't have to if you'd kept if clean in the first place," she retorted.

"Not my fault I have so many clothes."

"Be grateful," she said cuttingly. "Not many people are rich enough to afford so many."

Leia looked startled for a moment. Obviously she hadn't thought of that. Then she gave a slow nod. "No, I suppose not."

For a minute, the only sound was the rustling of clothes, occasional sounds of irritation and soft breathing. Finally Leia asked, "So where did you live before you came here?"

"Naboo."

She frowned. "Never heard of it."

"I have," Winter said suddenly. "That's the Emperor's homeworld."

Lu-Jean felt slightly queasy. She hadn't known that before. "Really."

"So…" Leia asked hesitantly, "What was it like?"

For a second, Lu-Jean debated the wisdom of asking her to please shut up, Naboo brought back too many memories of her mother. But Leia was trying to be nice the only way she knew how–even though Bail had forced her to do it, she didn't have to make an active effort to know her. so she forced down her bubbling anger and said casually, "Pretty, I guess. Lots of water."

"You liked it?"

"I suppose. I didn't live there very long. Probably only a year, maybe less than that."

"And before that?"

"Loads of places," she answered shortly. Would the girl never take the hint?

"Like what?" she persisted.

"Tatooine. Adumar. Any place the Empire wouldn't think of," Lu-Jean said hotly, losing her patience. "I'll make a list if you're so interested; now please leave me alone."

Leia looked mildly annoyed herself now. She exchanged glances with Winter and stopped asking questions.

Another silence, this one longer. Lu-Jean was beginning to feel guilty for snapping at Leia like that, but too annoyed to apologize. So they worked quietly. Leia was rather red in the face, and Lu-Jean suspected her face was too. Winter was the only one who didn't seem very fazed; she kept right on working as if nothing had happened.

Finally the last outfit was folded and neatly placed in the wardrobe. Leia sighed and jumped onto the bed. "Well, there's nothing to do."

Lu-Jean stared. "Seriously? You're the princess of Alderaan and you don't have anything to do?"

"I don't see how my being princess has anything to do with it," she replied crossly. Then she got up and strode over to the wardrobe. "Let's go swimming."

Winter grinned. "Best thing you've said all day. I'll go find my swimming suit."

Lu-Jean watched Winter go with an unexpected pang in her heart. She'd have loved to go swimming with them, but in the hurry of leaving Naboo, she'd left her swimsuit behind. She let out a soft sigh.

"What's wrong?" Leia asked as she pulled off her dress.

"I don't have a swimsuit," she said dolefully.

Leia looked disbelievingly at her, then her head disappeared into the swimsuit. It reappeared a second later. "I have an old suit here if you want it…but Beth, do you know how to swim?"

Lu-Jean began to respond hotly, then thought better of it. She'd teach this arrogant little brat a lesson. "Well, I love splashing about in the water," she said.

"So you can't actually swim."

"I can float," she said defensively.

"Really?" she said in mock surprise. "How wonderful."

Twenty minutes later they were standing beside the lake. It was an isolated spot far away from prying eyes; Lu-Jean suspected it was probably the princess's personal swimming space. She couldn't see anyone nearby. She tugged at her swimsuit; it was rather small for her, and she felt rather uncomfortable. Leia saw her discomfort and shrugged. "Maybe if you do a good enough job I'll buy you one of your own."

"Why, how kind of you."

Leia and Winter had wrapped bathrobes around themselves. They pulled it off and began to wade into the water. Lu-Jean tested it with a toe; it was cold–just the way she liked it. With an emerging grin, she waded in after them.

Leia watched her with some apprehension. "You won't drown or anything, will you?" she asked.

Lu-Jean laughed. "You just worry about keeping up, princess. Anyone up for a race to the other end and back?"

She giggled. "You bet. Winter, count down."

They shot off at almost the same instant–Lu-Jean was a half second behind. Even so, she easily caught up with Leia, and then surged on forward. She finished at least three seconds before Leia. They pulled themselves up on the bank and lay on their banks, breathing heavily. Lu-Jean got her breath back first. "How about that, miss princess?"

Leia propped herself on one elbow. "You lied to me," she accused.

Lu-Jean raised a hand in defence. "Hey, I never said anything about not actually being able to swim."

"You're right, I must've leaped to that conclusion myself," she grumbled, slipping back into the water. "How silly of me. Whatever made me think that way?"

She chuckled. "Leia, what did you think when I told you Naboo had lots of water? I swum there every day."

"So do I. Well, almost every day."

Winter smiled at them from where she was standing in the water. "She means every day before she had to go the Academy."

Leia grimaced. "Please don't talk about that." She pushed off and began to swim across again.

Lu-Jean stayed where she was. "What Academy?" she asked Winter.

"The Alderaan Select Academy for Young Ladies," she said pontifically.

"Ouch. Sounds scary."

"Oh, it is. Leia hates studying there. Unfortunately, she can't do anything about it; the Academy is where all upper-class girls go to study. The girls don't have a choice in the matter."

Lu-Jean raised her eyebrows. "Yes, well, like I said, scary."

Winter smiled. "And then there's Madame Vesta, who teaches Leia personally. She–"

"There you are!" a strident voice called. They jumped and looked at the source of the sound. An old lady wearing an orange gown was striding purposefully over to them. "I've been looking all over for you. Leia, I thought you were going thranta-riding?"

"I changed my mind." Leia, in the middle of the lake, was standing, looking at her with only partially veiled distaste.

"I see that. Come on now; out of there this instant."

"Why?"

"A special group of botanists has arrived from Ithor."

"I don't see what that has to do with me," Leia grumbled, diving underneath the water.

"Leia Organa! Out of that water, now!"

She resurfaced–or rather, her head did. "Why?"

"You're going to meet them." Leia wailed aloud. "Quiet, now. You're not acting like a princess, Leia. Do you want me to tell my father?"

Leia arose to her full height–which, Lu-Jean suddenly noted, wasn't very much. "What, that I don't want to meet a bunch of boring, saturnine old people? The thought makes me shiver. My father would be extremely disappointed if I don't go, wouldn't he?"

Her voice was saturated with sarcasm, but Vesta nodded her head. "Yes, he would. Come along now."

Leia grumbled to herself as she climbed out of the water and wrapped her robe around herself. Vesta looked at Lu-Jean and blinked as if noticing her for the first time. "Who's that?"

"That's Leia's servant," Winter replied for Leia, who as too busy griping to respond.

Vesta looked approving. "So you finally got over your hatred for slavery, Leia?"

"She's not my slave," Leia protested. "She's my servant. There's a difference."

"Not the way I see it," Vesta said in a tone that meant she wasn't going to stand arguments. She looked at Lu-Jean with distaste; Lu-Jean glared back. "Some people are meant to be dominated, Leia. The sooner you understand that, the better." She walked off after a final glance at Lu-Jean, her nose in the air.

Leia watched her go with a sneer on her face. "The sooner you understand that, the better," she repeated in a mocking, high-pitched voice, then growled. "I can't stand the sight of her."

"You've no choice," Winter said. "It's only for a few years. After that you'll be going to the University and you can throw all memory of her out of your mind."

"Yeah, lucky me, I can actually do that," Leia said, grinning suddenly. She waved a hand at Lu-Jean; apparently their earlier disagreement had been forgotten or forgiven. "Ta."

After she disappeared from view, Lu-Jean turned to Winter. "You won't go? I thought you were the senator's ward."

"I am."

"Then you're upper-class too. Why doesn't dear Vesta boss you around?"

Winter smiled. "Madame Vesta pays more attention to adopted daughters than wards."

"And none whatsoever to servants and slaves, I imagine. She looked at me as if I was bantha fodder. Leia hates slavery?"

"Despite the impression she gave when she ordered you about, yes."

Lu-Jean looked skeptical. "I always believed nobles were cut from the same cloth. And it goes without saying that I hate said cloth."

"Believe me, I've seen more than my fair share of nasty nobles, and from what I've seen, Senator Organa isn't anything like them. And neither is Leia."

"Well, I hope you're right. No offense, but I'm not going to believe in something just because you say so." She gave a deprecatory smile.

Winter regarded her in silence. Then, "Are you sure you're ten years old? Because you act like you're twenty."

She gave a soft chuckle. "The way I was born, I didn't have time to grow at the normal rate."

"Yes, the Senator mentioned something about that," Winter said thoughtfully.

"What did he say?" she asked sharply.

The girl shrugged. "Like Leia said, not hardly enough. Only that you were being chased by the Empire. Is that why you kept moving from planet to planet? So they wouldn't find you?"

"Yes."

Winter was silent. After a while she took a deep breath and said, "Up for another race?"

They raced each other for about half an hour. Lu-Jean was the winner almost all the time; occasionally it would be a tie. Finally they clambered out of the water and lay on the banks, letting their feet dip into the water. Lu-Jean stared up at the sky; in the distance she could see some sort of flying being. She frowned at it in puzzlement.

"A thranta," Winter said.

Lu-Jean nodded. "I know."

"You've seen one?" Winter's voice was full of surprise.

She shook her head before she realized that Winter, outspread on the ground beside her, wouldn't see it. "I've heard the description of one."

"Oh."

Lu-Jean felt oddly defenceless, stretched out on the bank and bathed in sunlight. She couldn't remember the last time she'd played with girls her age. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so…carefree. Even on Naboo and the other planets she'd been to, the threat of being found out was always present, like a blaster hidden in the shadows. You couldn't see it, you didn't know when it would open fire, but you always knew. That little nagging thought would always stay at the back of your mind, seeping all the life out of you. Lu-Jean realized that, for the first time in her life, she wasn't worrying about being captured. For a moment, she wondered if she was being an idiot to let her guard down. After all, Bail himself had said that Alderaan wasn't completely safe–no planet in the galaxy was. Only after she learnt how to use the Force properly from Fess, and maybe not even then, could she possibly–

Fess. She shot up, looking wildly at her chrono–or where her chrono used to be. It wasn't there now. Winter had propped herself on an elbow and was looking at her bemusedly. "What's wrong?"

"What's the time?"

Winter reached over to where she'd left her chrono and told her. Lu-Jean smacked her head. She was half an hour late for the lessons. She scrambled to her feet hurriedly. "What?" Winter asked again.

Lu-Jean hesitated. _I'm late for my Jedi training._ That would be the perfect truth. Not that she could tell Winter that. "I've something to do."

Without awaiting a reply, she turned and fled up the stairs to avoid answering any awkward questions. After changing into a loose shirt and pants, she headed to Fess' place, fully prepared to listen to a reprimand for her unpunctuality.

Fess received her with a small smile, not the stupid one. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind," he said.

"If I was, I'd have come to tell you that."

"Leia's wardrobe must have been messier than I believed."

"Huh? Oh, that wasn't why I was late. We went out swimming."

Fess raised an eyebrow. Lu-Jean thought he looked pleased. "And? What did you think?"

Lu-Jean shrugged. "Well, she seemed nice enough," she said carefully. "Both of them–her and Winter."

"But?" he prodded after a short silence.

"I've seen plenty of nice people in my life," she said. "And all of them turned into complete monsters at some point of time. All of them tried to either capture or kill my mother and me. More than half of them tried to capture or kill at least me. You'll forgive me for being suspicious of smiling, obsequious people."

"And did either Bail or Leia strike you as smiling, obsequious people?"

"Well, no, not really. But I'm not going to change my mind until, I don't know, maybe a decade or so?"

Fess gave a rather annoyed sigh. "And I thought I'd seen my fair share of obstinate people."

"I'm not obstinate. Just wary."

"A cute term for it. I suppose since I can't get you to change your mind I might as well stop trying."

"Excellent idea."

"Stay here." Fess walked into another room and returned a few minutes later with two objects. The first was a small sphere, about six inches in diameter. As he grew closer, Lu-Jean could see what looked like laser emitters and manoeuvring thrusters on its surface. She recognized it instantly as being a training remote. The other object she'd never seen before in her life, but she identified it just as easily. A lightsaber. Just looking at the thing made her heart jump, and she felt a queer mixture of tension and delight within her.

Fess handed the lightsaber to her. "Here. Technically you should have been training since you were six or seven–that was the rule in the Jedi Temple in the olden times. Training with lightsabers came after you learnt to have at least marginal control over the Force. But since we're in such a tearing hurry to get you properly trained as fast as possible, we'll jump directly into the more important stuff." He gave a little grin. "If my masters were here, they'd give me a thorough pounding for saying that."

Lu-Jean fingered the lightsaber in her hand, a strange thrill running through her. This was it, the moment she'd been waiting for ever since she'd realized she was Force-sensitive. Even with the cold metal blade in her hand, she still couldn't believe it.

She switched it on and it blazed into life, its iridescent blue blade humming softly.

"So you were a Jedi, then?" she asked quietly. "You trained in the Temple."

He nodded simply. Lu-Jean watched him warily, suspicions rising in her mind. "The Empire killed all Jedi, even those in training. Even the children." Saying those words made her sick, but she managed to get them out of her mouth without sounding too squeaky. "The only way you could still be alive is if you were on the Empire's side."

"The Emperor thinks I'm dead."

"Convenient, but all I have is your word for it."

"Yes." Lu-Jean started slightly. She hadn't expected instant agreement. "You have no way of knowing who I am and whether I am who I claim to be. But it doesn't matter, does it? Even if I'm on the Emperor's side, I'm still offering to teach you, and I still know more about the Force than you do. It doesn't matter that I'm an Imperial or not. What matters is," he activated the remote and suspended it in the air, about three feet from the ground and away from her, "you need to learn, and I can teach."

Lu-Jean considered his words for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. "I agree." She held up her lightsaber in readiness. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

He gave a slight smile. "That doesn't matter either." He moved forward and caught her hands, adjusting her grip on the handle of the lightsaber, keeping up a steady flow of instructions at the same time. Lu-Jean listened carefully, knowing that this was the first, and–hopefully–not the last lesson she would be having.

Finally Fess took a step back and let go of the lightsaber. "All right, that should be enough for now. Let's see how well you do." He fiddled with the remote for a bit and then moved a few paces away. "Remember, the aim of this exercise is to use the Force rather than your own senses. Attune yourself to the Force."

Lu-Jean nodded slowly, her attention on the remote. Per Fess' instructions, she had dropped into a half-crouch, and the remote was hovering silently a little above her head. without warning, a laser beam shot toward it. She deflected it easily, and the next one, and the next. This didn't make her feel the slightest bit confident–remotes were known to be easy-going at first and then suddenly turn sneaky.

So she wasn't surprised when the remote suddenly dropped two feet and a beam shot toward her legs. She twisted the lightsaber down and deflected it. The remote flew up again, and before she could bring her blade back up, the beam caught her on the right shoulder blade, making her wince. "Use the Force," Fess urged.

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled under her breath.

After nearly fifteen minutes, exactly four shots had got past her guard and left her flinching in pain. Fess apparently decided he had enough. He got up purposefully. "I see the problem. Carry on; I'll be right back." He disappeared again into the adjoining room. Lu-Jean watched him go, then squealed as a stun beam caught her full on the cheek. She glared at the remote. "I'll get you for that," she muttered.

Fess came back with a long, thick black piece of cloth. He tied it securely around Lu-Jean's eyes. She protested immediately and loudly. Fess cut across her remonstrations, saying quietly, "This will effectively stop you from using your eyes. You need to learn to rely on the Force to guide your moves."

"Couldn't you find some better way to do that?"

"In the Temple, we usually used helmets with the blast shield down," he went on as if he hadn't heard her. "I don't have a helmet here so we'll have to make do."

"Why don't you plug my ears so I won't use my sense of hearing, either?"

"Don't tease. Go."

She dropped back into her 'stance', holding up the blade again. She could see the sense of the blindfold, though it was hardly likely she would have to face blasters with her eyes blindfolded. Still, not being able to rely on her vision was rather unnerving.

This time, when the stun blasts came, she could feel the Force's warning tingle in advance, and was ready. She deflected each one of them with relative ease. When four bolts came shooting at her in quick succession, she could deflect all of them–barely.

Just when she was beginning to think she was good at this, the shots came faster–Fess must have done something. Lu-Jean could feel her sweaty hands gripping the handle of the lightsaber, but for each dozen shots, she could deflect at least ten, which she thought was a pretty decent ratio, but she had no idea what Fess thought. Again the speed of the bolts increased, and she could feel sweat breaking out on her forehead as she fought to hold her ground.

Now the bolts were flying faster than ever, from all sorts of directions, and she had to step back multiple times. Her concentration was beginning to slip; she got grazed so many times she lost count. Her lightsaber was rotating wildly in her hands as she deflected shot after shot. Her Force sense was in top gear now, and her clothes were soaked.

Then the shots stopped. Fess, sounding rather breathless for some reason, said, "That's enough," and she sagged in relief.

She pulled off the blindfold and blinked at the sudden light. Then her eyes focused on the room and she gaped.

There wasn't just one remote now, there were two.

Fess was standing way away from her, grinning and even looking rather uneasy. He walked forward, and Lu-Jean could see he was a bit pale. "That was a brilliant performance," he said, and Lu-Jean knew he meant it. "You sure you've never done this before?"

She shook her head, feeling breathless and tired. "I think I'd remember if I had." She stumbled over to the bed and collapsed on it, her chest rising and falling as she took in great gulps of air.

Fess moved over to the bed to stare down at her. "You know, when I said brilliant, I meant it. I've never seen anyone catching on so quickly. I could feel you through the Force; your level of control over the Force was astonishing."

Lu-Jean blinked. "It was?"

"Well, not exactly," Fess conceded with a nod. "You didn't come up to Jedi Padawan level, let alone Jedi Knight level. But you were far better than almost any other ten year old Force-sensitive I've seen."

Fess' intense voice and his unnaturally grave face showed Lu-Jean exactly how spectacular a performance hers was. She didn't doubt it–her father was a Sith Lord, after all. It ran in her veins. For a moment, she wondered whether the advantage she had due to her Force sensitivity, inherited from him, outshined the disgrace of being Palpatine's child. She decided that it didn't.

"You know, my curiosity is increasing every second," Fess mumbled. "Curiosity as to who you are, I mean. I understand why the Empire is after you; you would be a real jewel to them. Bail was right. We can't let them get to you." He gave a long sigh. "The galaxy needs as many trained Jedi as possible."

Lu-Jean again searched his face for any signs of duplicity. She found none. "I'm just as curious about you as you are about me."

"Yes, I feel it." He gave a surprisingly roguish grin. "Next I'm going to have to teach you how to hide your feelings in the Force. They're pretty close to the surface."

"Only when I'm not being careful." Lu-Jean drew in on herself. "Here's what I think. You're a Jedi Knight who somehow managed to escape the Great Purge."

"Wrong."

"Correct me, please."

"I never became a Knight."

Lu-Jean stared. Given his level of expertise, she'd assumed he was a Knight at the very least. "Come again?"

He sighed. The look on his face was that of a man revisiting old memories which were buried in the past. Old _bad_ memories. "I left the Jedi Order when I was still an apprentice and became a normal person in the galaxy. I started a business in tandem with an acquaintance." His voice hesitated at 'an acquaintance'; Lu-Jean sensed a long story behind that. "Then we started a rebellion against the Empire."

"What happened?" she asked after a long pause.

"It…didn't go so well," he said curtly.

Looking at his pained face, Lu-Jean knew better than to push for answers. "So the Empire thinks you're dead which left you in the wonderful position of not being hunted. You came here to be safe. And that ridiculous, grovelling, despicable character you pretend to be…it's a façade. A mask. The technical term for it is _disguise_."

"In a nutshell, yes." He shook himself slightly. "You're pretty smart for a kid."

"Thanks."

"I suppose it isn't too much to ask for your life story, now that I've told you mine?"

She laughed lightly. "I'll think about it. And, for the record, I think I've more to lose by revealing my life story than you do by revealing yours."

"I doubt that," he said mildly.

"Really? So you're a Jedi who never even made it past the rank of Padawan. You tried and failed to rebel against the Empire, and now you're spending the rest of your days comfortably in a planet that's known for being peaceful–Alderaan doesn't even have shields, does it? Pathetically peaceful is what I call it–and growing fat on the produce of the planet. You're no big threat to the Empire, now are you? Why would the Empire be interested to know you're alive? And if even if they are, if they managed to catch me and wring the whole truth out of me, all I know is of some former Jedi apprentice who left the Order for some mysterious reason unknown to me, and is living on Alderaan, as peaceful and harmless as the planet itself. How would that help them in any way?"

To his credit, Fess didn't pop an artery or even grow red. He just sat there, listening to it all, a tinge of amusement on his face. "I think any surviving Jedi would be of much interest to the Emperor. He doesn't like to have loose ends. Besides, they know of only one person who fits your description."

"Maybe. What was your business partner's name?"

Fess hesitated, and Lu-Jean's suspicions were confirmed; the acquaintance had either met a bad end, or had betrayed Fess. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he said at last. "Roan." His expression was dismal. "He was a good man."

"Something happened to him." She stated it as a fact.

He nodded. "He died. Vader killed him."

Lu-Jean felt a shiver go up her back. Vader was Palpatine's 'enforcer', which was the far-too-understated term for what he did. From the rumours she'd heard, and her mother's subtle hints, it was easy to figure out that he was a Sith. A Sith Lord, most likely. And probably Palpatine's personal pet and/or apprentice, which made him just as dangerous as the Emperor. She'd had nightmares of the man–if anyone so callous could be called a _man_. "I'm sorry." Fess nodded absent-mindedly. Suddenly, something clicked in her mind. "Wait. Roan? Roan Lands? That Roan? From Bellassa?"

Fess looked startled. "Yes. You–know him?"

"I lived on Bellassa for a while. The news got around. And they did mention a pair of men named Roan Lands and –" she started. " and Ferus Olin. You're Ferus Olin."

Fess grimaced. "I hate it when the news gets around."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Not anymore," he said firmly. "I now am and always will be Fess Ilee. Ferus is gone."

She snorted. "Fess Ilee is an idiot and he's most definitely not Force-sensitive. The thought itself is bloodcurdling. Ferus, on the other hand, is."

"Fair point. Either way, please keep it to yourself."

"Oh, I will." She heaved herself up. "Do we start where we left off, or do we call it the day?"

"What do you think?"

She glanced at his brown eyes and at the remote, still suspended in the air. "I think we're going on."

"Smart girl."

Leia found C-3PO in her room. "Oh, Princess Leia, I'm so glad to find you–"

"What do you want?" she asked snappishly. 3PO looked as offended as a droid could, but she was in no mood to put up with him. The botanists had been as disgustingly obnoxious as ever. Leia had tried to be as princess-like as possible, but after half an hour her patience had given out. She'd replied cheekily to their stories, and Vesta had scolded her roundly. Not that she'd minded that–Vesta scolded her so often she'd grown used to it–but she hated being ticked off in public.

"The Senator sent me to find you, Princess. He wants to talk to you."

"Oh. Fine." She turned and left, making her way to her father's study. The senator was sitting at his desk, and was thoughtfully poring over some papers on his desk. Leia slipped inside. "Hi, dad."

Her father looked up and broke into a smile–he always did that whenever he saw her. When she was younger she used to wonder if it was just a habit he'd forced upon himself; as she grew older she'd realized she couldn't have been farther from the truth. "Leia dear! Come in, come in!"

Leia couldn't help smiling either as she walked over to her father and climbed into his lap. "I met some botanists today," she said by way of preamble.

He nodded. "Vesta has been around. Complaining about your blunt nature. And something about a troublemaking attitude?"

She couldn't help but grimace, and her father chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to scold. How did it go with Lu-Jean? I hear you went swimming with her. Vesta was annoyed about that, too–although she did mention she was pleased you finally took an interest in having a servant of your own."

"Vesta is always annoyed," she grumbled. "Couldn't she find some equally intolerable noble's daughter to educate? I think they'd get along quite well. We're the death of each other. We are as different as any two people could possibly be."

"Madame Vesta is headmistress of the Select Academy," the senator explained, even though she knew that–and he knew she did. "She won't teach just anybody. Besides, tolerating her is education in itself."

Leia twisted to look at him more fully. "What do you mean by that?"

"Leia, when you grow older, you'll be taking my place as Senator. Your life won't be easy. You'll have to deal with more obnoxious, more obstinate and awful people than Madame Vesta. If you learn how to handle her, it'll be easier for you to deal with Senators and Moffs."

"I can't handle her," she said. "She's the one case in which familiarity does not breed understanding. Vesta is a mystery to me."

Her father smiled. "You have to admit, Leia, that she's the only irritating person you've had to interact with in the whole of your life. No one else in this household is that bad. You need to learn how to handle all sorts of people, not just the sweet ones."

"I suppose you do have a point," she conceded.

"Back to the subject. How did it go with Lu-Jean?"

Leia took a moment to gather her thoughts; she was too busy preparing a monologue in her head specifically for Madame Vesta. "Okay, I guess. She's far too–how do I put it?–uncommunicative."

Her father burst into laughter. "Uncommunicative is hardly the word for it. Any information she divulges is with an expression that suggests she's tearing out her own heart in the process."

"You felt it too?"

"You bet." Her father grinned. "She seemed to think my aim in life was to hand over wanted people to the Empire. Rather hard to believe she's only ten years old, isn't it, given her level of suspicion?"

"And nothing could be farther from the truth," she said with a sudden giggle.

"And I must warn you, Leia, she hates senators."

"Really. Why didn't I see that coming?"

"Well, I think its nobles in general, and senators in particular."

"Great. Dad, I don't think this going to work out very well."

"You don't know that for sure," her father pointed out. "And you didn't tell me how it went at the lake."

"I did. I said it was okay. She's a fast swimmer." Leia hoped to leave it at that, reluctant to reveal how Lu-Jean had defeated her, but Bail raised an eyebrow. "Faster than you?" he asked carefully.

"We raced and I lost."

"Did she tell you anything about herself?"

"Not without tearing out her heart in the process," she replied drily. "She did mention she stayed on many planets. Apparently she was on the move a lot. The last planet was Naboo, she said. Dad, did you know that the Emperor's homeworld was Naboo?"

"I did."

Leia was too engrossed to notice a flicker of emotion flit across Bail's face. "As per your instructions, I tried to get to know her more. I think she didn't like that very much. She got really mad when I tried to prod her for more enlightening answers."

"Well I suppose that's because her time there wouldn't have been so easy," her father explained. "From what I heard, I suspect each time she departed from a planet, it was with a platoon of stormtroopers right behind her. Her childhood was a very difficult one, Leia. Asking her questions about it would've riled her up."

"Well, what did you expect me to do?" she asked irritably. "I tried to be nice and look at the reception I got."

"If I know you, Leia, and I do, you won't give up."

Leia looked woefully up at him. "Please don't try to appeal to my pride to get me to do something I don't want to do."

Her father gave the smile that he kept reserved for that request. "You know what she's trying to do, don't you? She wants to stop you taking any interest in her. She wants to be aloof. She wants to be left alone. You don't want to gratify her, do you?"

"Doesn't sound too bad."

"Okay, bad tactic. Let's try a new one." He took her hand in his. "Do it for me. At least try to make friends with her?"

Leia looked into his earnest eyes and sighed. "Well, if you put it that way."

He pulled her into an embrace. "I love you, dear."

She wrapped her arms around him, smiling. "Me too, dad."

The door slid open and Winter stepped in. she stopped at the doorway. "I see you're busy," she said and turned to leave.

Bail chuckled. "No, stay, Winter. Unless you've something more to discuss?" At Leia's shake of the head, he said, "What opinion did you form of our Beth?"

"Nice, I think. Reserved, but nice. I think I'm going to quite like her, if–"

Leia raised an eyebrow. "You must have fared better than I did, then."

Winter raised a finger. "Ah, but I did not put her to work on the first day of her job."

"I suppose you didn't apologize for that," Bail said.

Leia shook her head. "No. Do–do you want me to?"

"It would be a nice gesture," Bail confessed. "Regardless, I'm not going to push. I leave the decision to you; you decide whether your actions were hurtful or not."

Leia hate it when her father left the decision up to her–it led to an intense internal struggle. She much preferred it when her father ordered her to do something. It did mean that she had the choice of not apologizing at all, of course, but the way he said it made it pretty clear he thought Beth deserved an apology. And she wouldn't disappoint.

"Anyway," Winter said, making them both look at her in unison, "You might have made a favourable impression on her today at the lake."

"If I did, it was entirely inadvertently."

"Inadvertently or not, an impression was made. Madame Vesta had something to do with it, I'm afraid."

Leia's eyebrows shot up as something clicked in her mind. "Right. The slavery thing."

"Slavery thing?" Bail asked curiously.

Leia and Winter together told him what had happened at the lake. Bail gave an approving 'hmmm' at the end. "Well, if Beth had to make a list of the reasons why you aren't the typical senator, I think this would be her first point."

"Hopefully." Leia thought back to the look in Beth's eyes as she'd said, "Not many people are rich enough to afford so many." Her opinion of nobles could for all the world have been engraved in stone. She didn't think it would be very easy to change that.

Her father seemed to understand her line of thought and gave her an encouraging little shake of the shoulder. "Don't give up now, darling," he urged. "Just wait and see."

She turned to look at Winter, who nodded. "I'll help, of course."

"Thanks." Leia gave a soft sigh. This wasn't going to be easy.

 **Well, as usual, I have one and only one request–go to the little box below and give me your honest opinion. Tell me if it's becoming gross, boring or interesting. Or anything else.**


	8. A Little Corellian Boy

A LITTLE CORELLIAN BOY SAVES THE DAY

The small transport ship set down smoothly enough in the hangar bay and the doors opened almost immediately, with a loud squeak that reverberated through the ship. The passengers clambered off with an alacrity that suggested there was no better place in the galaxy to be, than the Gus Treta Space Station. Or, Ladine thought, maybe they were all simply spacesick.

The ship was an old, decrepit thing that teetered and tottered with every minor move. The passengers, with the exception of a burly old man who by his own confession had been on the ship plenty of times and was used to the swaying, had all lost colour in the matter of a few minutes. Ladine, apparently, had been less pale than the rest–the burly man had commended her bravery. She hadn't replied–he didn't need to know that she was feeling far too miserable to feel scared.

Unbelievably, the ship had landed with not a single casualty, albeit many pallid passengers who hurried off to the nearest bar as soon as they'd stepped off the ship. Ladine walked more leisurely. she had lots of time on her hands, owing to the fact that she wasn't going to travel in that ship anymore–she'd arranged for another, a smaller, faster little craft to take her to her destination. It cost more, but the _Cuddly Bantha_ 's final destination was Imperial Centre, and she didn't particularly feel like going there. She'd had enough of that place to last her a lifetime.

Her ship would be arriving in an hour, and an hour was more than enough to meet an old friend.

She stopped a youngish pilot passing by. "Excuse me, where would I find Jagged and Zena Antilles?" she asked politely.

"Those two who own the fuelling depot?" she nodded. "Probably in the hanger bay."

Ladine thanked him and turned to head back in the direction she'd been coming from. Two humans were walking down the passage, engrossed in conversation. Ladine stopped, and her lips parted slightly. She hadn't seen them in over ten years. She tried to move, to speak, but her body seemed to have failed her.

"That's them," the pilot stated quite unnecessarily before continuing on his way. She nodded absent-mindedly at him.

Just then, one of them, a blonde, pretty young woman, looked in her way and broke into a smile as she laid her eyes on Ladine. "Juliet!" she practically screeched as she dashed over to enfold her in a hug. The other human, a kindly-eyed man with a wisp of white hair, walked over with more dignity but the same amount of delight, smiled down at her. "Hello again, Juliet," he said gravely. "We'd just gone to the hangar bay to welcome you."

Ladine blinked back sudden tears. Zena still hadn't let go; she was clutching her so hard she found it hard to breath. "Yeah, I must've missed you."

Zena, smiling through her tears, pulled back. "Oh, how we've missed you! I was just beginning to think you'd forgotten all about us–My goodness, you've grown thin!" she said, pinching one of Ladine's long sleeves and exclaiming. "Haven't you been eating these days? Are you on a diet?"

Ladine shook her head, unable to stop smiling. "It's good to see you too, Zena."

"Yes, yes. Come on to the diner; we'll fatten you up again." She looped her arm around Ladine's and practically lugged her down the passage.

"I'm only going to be here for four hours," she reminded gently.

"Then we'll have to work hard and fast, won't we?" she said cheerfully.

Ladine turned to smile at Jagged, walking silently beside his wife. "She hasn't changed one bit."

"Thank goodness for that." He leaned over to give her a quick kiss. Ladine bit her lip. Public gestures of conjugal affection always tended to make her feel uncomfortable. Maybe even a little jealous. It was like a reminder of what she never had and could not have anymore, ever. Palpatine was as far from being a loving, responsible husband as one could ever get and marrying someone else would be too dangerous.

Now she thought of herself as a widow. Palpatine was dead. Darth Sidious was not Palpatine. That was the only way she could console herself–by thinking that, when she'd married him, before he became Chancellor and Emperor, he'd been normal and not Sith. That Sidious, reigning Emperor, was simply somebody that had consumed Palpatine's body. Thinking that Palpatine had always been Sidious hurt too much.

"Are you all right?" Zena asked anxiously. Jagged was peering at her with concerned eyes. She forced a smile. "Of course," she replied cheerfully.

Clearly ten years of disuse had affected her control over her emotions. Zena's eyes narrowed. "Hmmm," she said suspiciously. Ladine nearly laughed–that hmmm was pretty much how she used to reply when Lu-Jean had answered her questions with a seeming innocence.

Lu-Jean. She turned away to hide her face from the couple. She wasn't sure if she could hold her feelings in that long.

They entered the diner, which was right then about half-full of people sitting at tables and eating quietly. The place was prettily, if rather simply, decorated. Zena led her to a table that was set slightly apart from the rest, and they sat. A droid came bumbling over. Zena looked at her expectantly. When Ladine ordered, Jagged looked surprised and said, "Well, no wonder you grew so thin so fast!" He turned to the droid and added a few more items of his own. Ladine started to protest, but Zena laid a hand on her arm and gave a little shake of her head. Jagged grinned at her as the droid lumbered off. "Let's see you finish that in five minutes."

"Not likely," she muttered. "You didn't have to do that."

"Sure we didn't," he said good-naturedly. "So how's it going these days?"

Ladine smiled sadly. "Okay, I guess." Jagged and Zena knew what her closest friends knew–that her relationship with Palpatine was down the drains–in addition to the fact that she was the wife of Palpatine, which was common news. What most of her closest friends didn't know of was the existence of Lu-Jean, daughter of Palpatine. Jagged and Zena were probably two of about seven people who knew that. "I sent her off." They were already familiar enough with her troubles to know who 'her' referred to. Jagged frowned. "He's still looking for her, isn't he."

"Oh, yes. I'm not going to let him get his hands on her. She's far too–"

Jagged's comlink beeped, startling Ladine. He pulled it out and peered at it for a few moments. Then he looked guiltily at Ladine. "Sorry, got to rush. A new transport ship has arrived and we need to be there for the refueling and loading of cargo."

Zena stood up with a remorseful smile. "I suppose that means I've to go too, then. Sorry, Juliet."

She waved a hand. "Don't let me hold you up. Go on."

They nodded and walked away. the droid arrived a few minutes later with her food and she slowly began to eat. She wasn't feeling at all hungry. She reached into one of her pockets and drew out a hologram, switching it on. It was of her and Lu-Jean when she was barely a year old. She was snuggled in Ladine's lap and had a handful of her hair in her mouth, and was grinning delightedly. Ladine stared at it and sighed. She'd destroyed all the holograms of Lu-Jean, but she couldn't bear to throw this one away. for the millionth time in the same day, she wondered if her little girl had arrived Alderaan safely and how she was getting on.

"She's cute."

Ladine was so shocked at the voice that she dropped the hologram. It fell to the floor, or nearly did. The speaker caught it deftly and handed it over to her, regarding the hologram curiously. Ladine took it back with a muffled thank you, switching it off instantly and placing it back in her pocket. That was a close call.

The speaker, a young boy with dark brown eyes and messy black hair, sat at the table and placed his crossed arms on the table with a welcoming smile. "My parents sent me over. I'm Wedge."

Ladine frowned at the boy for a minute in confusion before it turned to surprise. "You're Wedge? Jagged's son?" He nodded. She was suddenly aware of her gaping mouth and she shut it hurriedly, smiling as she did so. "Yes, you have your father's face." She couldn't help a small laugh. "The last I saw you, you were barely what? Three? Four?"

"Probably three," he said. "I remember the people I met when I was four, and I have absolutely no recollection of you."

"Ah." Ladine decided not to point out that that could have everything to do with her changed looks–last time she came here she was a Senator, wearing expensive clothing, make-up, with hair done up in exquisite styles and a platoon of guards and maids following her. Now, she was just another nondescript person, with a normal jumpsuit and hair cut short and left loose, and dirty and sweaty. In fact, it was a wonder Zena had managed to recognize her at all. "Wait. Your parents sent you?"

"To keep you company. They thought you'd be feeling lonely and–well, 'forlorn' was the word they used." He chuckled. "I didn't know grown-ups could feel that way."

"Well, they do. some more than others," she added soberly, thinking of the number of times she'd felt 'forlorn'.

Wedge nodded at her pocket, where she'd kept the hologram. "Who was that kid? Your child?"

Ladine hesitated, not really sure what to say. "No," she answered easily after a second, not out of distrust, but a desire to protect the boy–what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Wedge's eyebrow raised half an inch, but he didn't press any further. "Who are you?"

Again she hesitated. "Juliet."

His eyebrows furrowed together for a moment before his eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh, yeah! I remember my parents talking about you."

"Really?" she asked, wondering exactly how much the couple had revealed to the child.

"Well, they said you were a wonderful person, one of the best they'd ever seen–"

"They're too kind," she muttered.

"And that you were being pursued by the e-m-p-i-r-e for no reason," he said conspiratorially, spelling out the word 'empire' for dramatic effect.

"Did they?" Ladine felt a flash of reproach at the Antilles couple, quickly repressed it. That piece of information wouldn't harm the boy.

"Nothing else, I'm afraid. You were one of two people my parents remained eternally close-mouthed about."

"Who was the other?"

Ladine regretted the words as soon as she said them. Wedge's brown eyes grew positively mournful, though he quickly returned to his former, cheerful state. the flash of pain was unmistakable, though. "My sister, Syal. They hardly ever talk about her. I eventually stopped asking."

"I…I'm sorry," she said lamely. Sorry. Sorry was hardly the word for it. She'd known about Syal Antilles, of course, and her running away so many years before. Zena had tearfully confided the matter to her once, two years ago, during a very brief and hurried meeting. "She was a nice girl."

Ladine could almost see Wedge's ears perking up. "You knew her?" he asked carefully.

She nodded. "I knew her. I can tell you about her, if you want me to."

Wedge's reply was cut off by the sudden appearance of a very haggard and pale Jagged and Zena. Ladine knew instantly that something was wrong. "What is it?" she asked urgently.

"Damien is here. With a bunch of stormtroopers."

Wedge snorted lightly. "Good gracious. Damien must be taking his new job pretty seriously, huh?"

"And we should take it seriously too, Wedge," Jagged said without even the slightest vestige of humour in his words. "Why do you think he'd be here with stormtroopers?"

The boy turned to look at Ladine. "Oh. Oh," he repeated, very quietly.

Ladine's heart had stopped beating for an instant on hearing the word 'stormtroopers'. Now, though, it was functioning smoothly again, though Ladine could feel that her heartbeat had accelerated. Then, just as Wedge swung around to regard Ladine, a sort of calm fell over her. She didn't even feel scared anymore, just resigned. This was it. This was the end. They'd find her, take her to the Emperor–she'd get to see Coruscant in all of its Imperial glory–she'd probably be tortured for months for Palpatine's pleasure and joy, and then executed, a long and painful death. Probably the whole thing would be recorded and broadcast to all the planets just to send a message, transparent in its clearness–the Emperor does not show mercy to anyone, even his own wife. Resist us, and you will be destroyed, no matter who you are.

And none of it mattered anymore. Lu-Jean was all that mattered. The only reason for her resisting capture was Lu-Jean's safety and now Lu-Jean was safe, in the safest hands possible. There was no reason for her to keep running.

She let out a long sigh, suddenly feeling extremely tired. Jagged and Zena had gone to meet Damien. "Who's Damien?"

"A friend of ours who's in CorSec. He just recently got a promotion to –and he was pretty happy about it too. Come on." He rose abruptly to his feet. "Let's go."

Ladine felt as though she were in some sort of dream. She arose silently. "Where are we going?"

"You'll find out. Come on, follow me." He led the way out of the diner.

Ladine followed, slowly beginning to understand. "You're going to turn me over to them. Good choice."

Wedge made a funny noise, one that Ladine realized was a cross between a chuckle and a startled "What?" "Don't be silly," he said. "I'm not going to turn you over; I'm trying to hide you."

After a second of blank astonishment, Ladine wondered who was crazy out of the two of them–Wedge, or her. "Hide me?"

"Yes. Please keep up. You don't want to be caught, do you?"

Ladine opened her mouth to reply–something to the effect of there being no reason to resist, no reason to go on living any longer–when she suddenly stopped. Of course she didn't want to die. As long as Lu-Jean was alive, and there was a chance of meeting her again, there was always a reason to live. "Of course not," she murmured.

Wedge opened a door and went in. Ladine, rather hesitantly, followed him. The room's furniture was not exactly expensive, but had a sort of homey look to it that Ladine took to at once. There was a double bed to one side of the room. Adjacent to it was a small night table, one which many holograms were kept. "This is my parents' bedroom," Wedge explained. "I don't think they'll search in here–"

There was a knock at the door. Wedge and Ladine both spun around at the same time.

"Is someone in there? Open the door!"

Wedge grabbed Ladine's arm and pulled her over hurriedly to the wardrobe at one end of the room. Opening the door, he pushed her in, and closed it. Ladine stood in the darkness, surrounded by clothes. A fusty smell was in the air. She bit her lip, moving back till she reached the back of the wardrobe, hoping fervently that the CorSec wouldn't search every inch of the place.

"Coming, Damien!" Wedge called, as casually as he could manage. He turned a chair over as he went, as softly as he could, sending a datapad skidding across the floor.

Damien was standing at the door, his face mildly disapproving. Wedge looked up at him innocently, noting his serious features and frown. Damien was serious. He was hardly ever serious. "What's wrong?"

"What took you so long?" he asked, as he stepped past him and into the room.

"Tripped over a chair." The fallen chair was proof enough. Damien took one look at it and snorted. "Clumsy, as always, Wedge. I need to conduct a search."

He frowned. "For what?"

" _Who_. A person."

Wedge chuckled. "You think there's a person in my parents' chambers?"

"Frankly I don't think there's anyone here in Gus Treta at all, much less your parents' bedroom, but I can't leave a single stone unturned. It won't take long." He began to move toward the refresher. "Let's start there."

"Oh, right. The refresher. The most obvious choice. Of course. Anyone who wanted to hide would of course go there." Damien didn't reply.

Wedge followed him into the refresher, determined to make him annoyed enough to leave in a hurry. "Check the pipes; maybe somebody's hiding in it. The person you're looking for could be then enough–who knows? I bet you don't, anyway. Orders to find someone rarely mention that person's weight. And the bath; its big enough." He stepped over to the bath. It was half-filled with water. Wedge pointed at it. "Look! Is that a hand or not?"

Damien finally turned around, his face flushed. "Stop it."

"Only trying to help," he responded meekly.

"This isn't funny, you know," he said. "We're looking for someone very dangerous. The Emperor is looking for this person."

Wedge nodded, serious, though inside his heart had suddenly picked up speed. The Emperor himself? His parents had always told him the Empire was looking about for Juliet, but the mention of the Emperor suggested how serious the situation really was. And suddenly, he realized that if Juliet was found in the wardrobe, it wouldn't just mean the end of the road for her, but for the entire Antilles family as well.

He let none of what he was feeling show on his face, trying to sound and look as innocent and casual as possible. "I know. I am trying to aid you in your search," he announced grandly. "I know more about this room than you do; I know exactly where someone would try to hide."

"All right, where?"

"Check the shelves." He smiled, the smile that his parents had always said was infuriatingly cheeky.

It worked on Damien. He huffed and left the refresher. Wedge hurried after him; he had to stop the man before he entered the wardrobe. "Don't tell me you're going to check every inch of the room! My mom just cleaned it up, you know. Like, five minutes ago. You'll mess it up again, you'll hear from her. You know what a stickler she is for tidiness. Just yesterday she ticked me off for not tidying up my bed."

Damien sighed. "Yes, Wedge. I'm not interested in your parents' belongings. I just need to–"

"Ooh," he interrupted, injecting some fear into his voice and pointing at the bed. There was a shapeless lump underneath it, big enough to be a person. "I think I saw someone moving."

"Wedge, please. This is important."

"I know!" he yelled. "Check the bed."

The young man glared at him for a second before storming over to the bed. "I didn't see anything."

He snorted as contemptuously as he could. The result, he thought with some pleasure, was splendid. "Fine searcher you are."

"You better be saying the truth." He pulled back the sheet, revealing pillows and clothing. The expression black as thunder was perfect to describe Damien at that moment, Wedge thought with a flicker of amusement. He stuck out his tongue. "Fooled you." He laughed.

Damien pushed the sheets back with some irritation. "Funny. Ha-ha."

Wedge held up a finger. "Maybe there's someone in the wardrobe," he suggested. "It's big, and spacious. And it's the only place you haven't looked–barring the drawers and the dressing table and under the bed and the chest over there. Barring everything except the refresher, in fact."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked.

Wedge chuckled wickedly. "Oh, yes."

He narrowed his eyes, then stepped back from the bed and headed–no, flounced–toward the door. "I'm not going to give you the satisfaction."

Wedge followed him to the door with a gay bounciness that was meant to infuriate him all the further–if he came to his senses too soon, there was a chance of his changing his mind and doing a check after all. All he had to do was get Damien out of the room; once the door was closed, professional pride would prevent him from knocking again. When Damien stepped out, he smiled at him. "Good luck with your search, Damien. I do hope you find the criminal. Do be careful; we don't want to lose one of our finest officers."

"Humph." Damien walked off, nose in the air.

Wedge shut the door, let out a long sigh of relief. "That was the most nonsensical thing I've ever done," he muttered to himself, then said more loudly, "It's all right; you can come on out now. He's left."

A second later, the door opened and Ladine stepped out, looking rather dishevelled and nervous. "Don't do that to me, Wedge. You nearly killed me."

He frowned. "You could listen to us?"

"Unfortunately for me, yes. You know what would have happened if he'd decided to check the wardrobe?"

"Don't tell me. My parents and I would probably be caught and sent to Imperial Centre for a long, slow, painful death. What are you complaining about? It worked."

She smiled beatifically. "Yes, it worked."

Wedge returned the smile, all too aware of the sudden relief that he felt. "Let's just stay here for a minute till my parents show up. They'll probably see Damien and his CorSec group off and head here immediately. No doubt," he added with satisfaction evident in his tone, "he's complaining to my parents this very instant."

"I'm sorry."

Wedge frowned. "What for?"

"He was your friend, wasn't he? Getting him all angry for no reason wouldn't have been easy for you."

Wedge laughed so hard he doubled over. He came up after about two minutes, tears running down from his face. "My father was right–you really are too sweet for this galaxy. Damien was my friend, of course, which made it all the more fun to rile him up. It isn't often I can do that and get away without a scolding from my parents. I mean, I was as cheeky as I could and I'm probably going to get a pat on the back for it. How often does that happen?" he shook his head, still grinning. "I loved his face as he marched off. Although," he added with some apprehension, "I hope he doesn't come stomping back, madder than ever. Or that he somehow finds out you were here all along. The CorSec has ways of finding out this, you know. That would be–awkward. I'll never hear the end of it."

Ladine smiled tiredly. Wedge, in all his childish naiveté, had completely forgotten about the repercussions of what he'd done till after he'd done it and it was too late to change anything. "Not to worry. They won't. I'm leaving anyway."

Wedge, who'd settled into the big bed, looked up at her. "Why are they so interested in you?"

After a long silence, and a silent struggle within herself, she said quietly, "My daughter is Force-sensitive. The Empire wants to find out where she is."

Wedge regarded her thoughtfully–Ladine was sure he remembered the child in the hologram and had made the connection. "How old is she?"

"Ten years."

Just then there was another knock at the door. Wedge turned slightly pale, and Ladine could feel the fear beginning to well up within her, when suddenly a voice, refreshing in its familiarity, from outside the door said, "Open up, Wedge!"

The boy literally leaped out of the bed and shot toward the door, a wide grin spreading over his face. The door opened and Jagged and Zena entered. Wedge looked reproachfully at them. "You should have told us it was you before knocking. We nearly got a heart attack."

"Nearly?" Ladine asked.

Wedge scowled at her, but any reply he was going to make was cut off by Zena stating, with relief evident in her voice, "They're gone, I just saw them off. They won't be coming back anytime soon. I got the feeling they didn't see the need to be here anyway. Their reasoning was that with all of Corellia to hide in, no one would think of coming to this place." She sniffed with some annoyance. "They don't think much of Gus Treta."

"Except Damien. He thinks a lot of his dear old Gus," Wedge said.

"Speaking of Damien, he told me how infuriating you were when he came to search the room," Jagged said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tried to look serious and severe; the look didn't quite come off. "I guessed at your reasons for doing so. Good work."

"Thanks, dad," he said. Then he turned to Ladine with a slightly wicked grin. "What did I tell you?"

"Naughty boy," she admonished. Then, to Jagged, "I better get going; my ship is going to arrive any minute."

Zena nodded, her expression sad. "I don't suppose we could force you to stay a while longer?"

"Not a chance," she said firmly. "I've put you through enough trouble and risk in this one trip itself. Somebody guide me to the hangar bay; I feel like a lost puppy while walking in this place."

Wedge got up and gallantly offered her a hand. "This way, Milady."

She took his hand with a suitably regal expression on her face. "Why, thank you, young man."

They walked out through the door, Jagged and Zena followed behind. Wedge said, softly so his parents couldn't overhear, "You said you'd tell me about my sister. Not much hope anymore, I guess, huh?"

Ladine felt a stab of regret. "Wedge, I'm sorry. I can't stand the risk of staying here and getting you all into trouble. I have to leave, now."

"It's all right." Wedge smiled up at her, though Ladine could see the barely-suppressed disappointment in his eyes. "If we meet again, though–"

"We'll sit down and have a long, long talk into the night," she promised fervently.

"I'll hold you to your promise," he said seriously.

"I'll hold me to my promise too." She reached out and affectionately mussed his hair. At first, he grimaced, but then his expression gave way to a rueful grin and he began to chuckle. "That's the way Syal used to do."

"Did she tickle too?"

"Only when I did it to her first. She'd grow increasingly exasperated, then turn on me." He laughed and she laughed with him.

They reached the hanger bay right then. She let her eyes roam over the huge hangar, then gave a half-nod as she recognized one of them. "Yep," she said, and a familiar feeling of sorrow began to arise, "My ride's here."

She started across the hangar bay towards the ship. When they reached it, Ladine regarded it for a moment, looked at the pilot–not a friend of hers, just a good flyer who happened to desperately need the money she offered him for carrying her to her destination–nodded fractionally, and turned, her hand still in Wedge's. Jagged and Zena were looking back at her, Zena with a sad smile on her face, Jagged with a controlled expression. He nodded solemnly. "Off you pop."

Ladine chuckled in spite of herself. Then she stretched her arms out wide and hugged Zena, swallowing hard to hold back her tears. Jagged shook her hand silently–his eyes said more than enough. She finally turned to head into the ship.

To find Wedge standing in front of her. He was smiling, tightly, as if he was keeping it on his face by sheer force. She knelt down on one knee and pulled him close. "I'm going to miss you," she said softly into his hair.

"Me too. I've hardly known you for an hour, but I like you very much, Juliet," he replied.

"Same here, Wedge. Same here." She finally moved away, and smiled at him. "Don't forget your promise," he said sternly. "I won't," she said. Then she arose, and moved away from the Antilles family–Zena had caught her son's hand, and now they were all huddled together in one tight circle, looking at her with expressions that ranged from resignation to outright despondency. "Fare well," Jagged said.

"You too." She tried to smile, failed, swallowed, and finally turned and ran up the stairs.

The pilot–a youngish, slender, handsome young man with a scar across his face and an expression that suggested he didn't care very much for such teary goodbyes–closed the doors. Ladine watched as the ship rose up slowly from the ground. Her eyes stayed on the Antilles family, a forced smile on her face, till the ship turned and flew out of the hangar bay. Then she sagged back in her seat and dashed at a tear threatening to roll down her cheek.

"Family of yours?" the pilot asked.

"Closer than my family could ever be," she said truthfully.

As soon as the ship left the bay, Wedge's mother sighed. Then she shook herself. "Come on, boys. We can't stand about forever. She's gone, and that's it."

Jagged kissed her consolingly and she smiled at him. they walked off down the hangar bay together. The his father stopped and turned around. "Wedge? You coming?"

Wedge started and looked back at his father. "No, I'll be a minute. You go on; I'll catch up."

He nodded understandingly and moved off. Wedge turned and watched the ship as it grew smaller. For a ship, it wasn't making very good progress–Wedge had seen plenty of faster ships. He thought of the woman on board, and the strange, haunted look in her eyes throughout the duration of her short stay. He couldn't even begin to imagine the sort of dangers she'd been through, the sort of life she'd had to lead. And for what? 'My daughter is a Force-sensitive', he remembered her saying. Ten years old. That was just two years younger than him. somewhere out there, there was a young girl, who was possibly as scared, as troubled, as Juliet was.

The ship grew smaller rapidly till it was just a small dot in the sky. Then the ship went into hysperspace, and then the dot disappeared too. Wedge sighed. Juliet had promised to tell him about Syal. He wondered if he'd ever see her again. More than that, he wondered how long she'd survive.

He turned and began to walk back, a heavy feeling in his stomach. He suddenly felt like he'd seen the galaxy, with all its ills and troubles and problems.

* * *

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